Disastrous Behavior
by Arisa K
Summary: Quistis becomes very different after an unfortunate situation nearly claims her life. There seems to be only one person who can get through to her. This work is incomplete and will remain so.
1. Misunderstood

**Authors Note: After a veeeery long hiatus (and I'm not even sure if anyone is still around to read this, and honestly I don't blame you if you gave up...8 years is a very long time) I've decided to try and pick up the pieces of this story I abandoned so long ago. Sometimes real life gets in the way and your hobbies, no matter how much you love them, simply fall to the wayside.**

**After rereading this story, I remember where I wanted this to go. I also noticed mistakes and wanted to improve a few things in the story to make it flow better and make a bit more cohesive sense overall. So basically, I'm re-releasing this story. Same idea, simply revised, and a new chapter will come after the revision of the current chapters is complete.**

**For those new to this story, enjoy. To old faces, please accept my humble apology.**

* * *

**Disastrous Behavior**

It was quiet, at first. When the world went black and silent, there was a certain tranquility to the nothingness. There was nothing to fear, nothing to feel but a floating abyss of midnight air.

A bright light that burned her eyes and she felt like she was flying. And when the wind ceased to blow through her hair, she was there.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

But she knew she didn't belong.

_"Rinoa...what did the doctor say?"_

Voices. She knew them. She knew them all. It was these voices that interrupted the still bliss of her current existence. She yearned to continue to hear the delicate touches their voices produced upon her ears, ached to know that there was life beyond this stillness and perhaps...she could get back there.

_"Dr. Kadowaki said she's suffering from head trauma. She also broke a lot of bones in the fall. She's...sleeping, I guess."_

_"Is it safe to say...she may be sleepin' for a long while?"_

A long while? She wanted to be awake now! If only she could move; a leg, a finger, anything!

She fell. She fell for a long time, she knew. And the end of that fall brought her there, to the darkness where nightmares were born. Quistis wanted out.

_"I feel like...it was my fault. I shouldn't have let her go off alone."_

There was a punctuated pause, as if everyone may have been searching for something to say.

It was Squall Leonhart who broke it.

_"It wasn't your fault, or anyone else on the squad, Zell. We should have been better prepared. Our intel was lacking. She was simply doing what she was trained to do."_

Trained to do.

Trained to do.

Trained to die.

* * *

**Six Months Later...**

The situation with the renegade terrorists, those responsible for Quistis Trepe's injuries, had not been solved, but the SeeDs' and Deling officials were beginning to gain the upper hand. Many Balamb SeeD's had been placed within Deling as protection for the citizens' of the city until all the culprits were apprehended. So many lives had been lost before the SeeD's were called into duty, their assistance strongly requested. And because of who the SeeD's were, their forces rushed to the rescue. Unfortunately, the severity of the situation was gravely underestimated, and nearly resulted in the demise of a strong, intelligent, respected and important asset to the Balamb Garden.

Quistis however, had recovered. Walking, talking, but never the same. How could she be? Death had nearly swept her away, taken hold to never release, and she was nearly powerless to stop it.

She could easily recall the many conversations within her hospital room. The arguments, the tears, the pleas, the passion and anger; at times it was overwhelming. She wanted to fix everything, but it was her that needed the fixing, and for some reason it was just too difficult.

Within the fourth month of her slumber, there was the choice that would end everything for her. The voices would be gone, and the black may have become a never ending expanse of agony and loneliness. She wanted to live; needed to live. And to have this decided for her was gut wrenching. There was a darkness within her that began to bloom, a darkness unlike the Instructor had ever felt. But perhaps, near death does change a person after all.

It almost seemed too easy for them, her friends to make the decision, to end the support that had kept her breathing, not much more than a puddle of mass and bones.

Except for someone.

_"Give her more time." _A normally emotionless Commander quietly pleaded, his eyes narrowed, his contemplative visage unyielding. There was, however, a lingering touch of passion behind the normally stoic tone of the request. Many one way conversations were carried between them. He had spent many evenings by her bedside, often not retiring to his quarters until the dawn peaked into the windows of the infirmary.

She remembered he spoke of many things, many private things. Things he would probably never utter to a coherent being. Some things she already knew, others she didn't. There were some that were simply heart breaking, and she could hear the crack in his throat. It was the Squall no one had the luxury to know-not even Rinoa. It reminded her when what seemed so long ago he told her to talk to a wall.

She became his wall.

Only a few days later did she open her eyes and he was there. By her bedside with a hand gently stroking her pale white, listless knuckles in the darkness. He wasn't looking at her, the familiar expression of thought etched upon his features. When her hand twitched beneath his, he thought he may be day dreaming. But it twitched again, and when he brought his eyes slowly to her face, he see through her bright blue eyes he wasn't disbelieving. A small twinge of her lips in the curve of a smile let him know that reality was no illusion. She had finally awakened. And she heard everything.

In the present, things seemed to be back to normal.

At least on the outside. There was a poisonous layer beneath, a fire that only destroyed and consumed. An unnatural foreboding that dwelled within Quistis. A certain hunger she couldn't quench. A hunger she didn't fully understand.

The surrounding darkness lifted from around her as she awoke, but something had taken root into her heart, into her mind. It's identity unknown, but as the recovery commenced, and she practiced moving, rotating the muscles and bones that spent months in hibernation, she felt it grow. It was carefree and sinister, an identity without a face or name, and it _hated_.

Her body had recovered-but her mind was different…

* * *

The Instructor sighed heavily as her students concentrated upon their task at hand-their written SeeD exam. Many appeared to be struggling, others seemed to zip right through it. There should have been a sense of accomplishment in this, knowing that at least half the class would pass, when only a handful normally do so. Was it her teaching efforts, or was she merely gifted with a class that was eager to learn all the materials needed, and pass with flying colors? Her mind had been so easily distracted, it was doubtful that her efforts were anything to be congratulated. Quite frankly, each day class was in session, she'd only pray for the day to end.

"Pencils down, and pass your exams forward."

Several had completed the mandatory test, while others groaned in protest, but complied with the request. Once the first person in each row had gathered the exams from their fellow students, Quistis lazily, and almost clumsily rose from her wooden desk chair and gathered the papers into a single stack upon her arm. Her expression was cold as well as emotionless. Although, there was a brush of activity that did catch her immediate attention. A note was being past from one student to the another. "Aaron and Shaline…"

Both students froze, the male of the pair pulling back the note which he was about to hand his friend. They both stared wide eyed at their Instructor who regarded them with calm authority. "Would you be so kind as to hand me that little note in your hand, Myers?"

All eyes were painfully placed upon the student as he slowly stood from his desk and approached his teacher with downcast eyes. Aaron was once a Trepie, soon seceding from the union of the Trepe fan club when she placed him in the disciplinary room for skipping class. His pride was bruised, and couldn't bring himself to worship a woman who had treated him so unjustly.

Placing the paper in her open palm, he scurried to his desk to gather his items once the bell sounded, ringing nuisance in her ears.

School was over.

Finally.

Trepe merely clenched the folded paper in her hand as she returned to her desk and delivered no parting words to her students. She only plopped into her chair, setting the stack of tests before her. Once she heard the door shut behind the final student, she relaxed, somewhat, and slumped carelessly in her seat. There was a nag in the back of her mind to grade the papers immediately to avoid procrastination. But there was something else twittering away that deemed she had other things to do. Truthfully, couldn't think of a single thing, but avoided the work nonetheless.

The note fluttered to memory, carefully fingering the slip of parchment. Before she had the opportunity to read it's contents, there was an obtrusive knock at her door. Dropping the parchment into one of her desk drawers, she called out, "Come in."

An exuberant Zell swiftly opened the door and shut it behind him with a near slam, which made him flinch, but Quistis remained unmoving as her eyes wandered to him. "Hey Quisty! Hoooow was teachin' today?"

There was an urge to sneer that she carefully kept in check. His energy, his joyous, bouncy, nothing-can-get-me-down attitude made her nauseous. She held her composure despite the overwhelming sensation to toss him out on his ass from her classroom-

_Why do I feel this way...?_

"Fine."

Zell seemed a little flushed by her clipped tone, but seemed to brush it under the bridge, "Well, I'm here to ask ya somethin'."

Quistis waved her hand carelessly for him to continue. It felt as though a chill had entered the room, which caused Dincht to shiver. They had all noticed her change in attitude, particularly toward her closest friends, but were informed by Dr. Kadowaki that she only needed time to recover from the full shock of the incident. Then the Quisty they knew and adored would return to them in full. But for now, there was to be no mentioning of the past events. Instead, they were charged with helping her focus on the present as well as the future. Yet it was a difficult task, while she was slowly and purposefully shunning them all away.

"We were all gonna hang out tonight in Deling for dinner and we wanted to know if, you'd come with us." Zell inquired sweetly. He had hope in his eyes.

Trepe didn't reply for several moments, her brows furrowed as if concentrating on a distant thought or memory. For some reason, it had been difficult to be close with Zell, with the others. There was a brewing tension whenever she was within their presence that simply made her boil. Part of her knew it was an irrational feeling, however, it seemed to be dominant and it was allowed to spread. "Who is we?" she sounded completely disinterested.

"Oh, you know…" Zell began quietly, his eyes locked with the floor, "Me, Selphie, Rinoa, Irvine, Squall…"

Squall. The only one of the bunch she did not internally despise somewhere deep inside of her soul. Strangely, they had barely spoken since her awakening, but there was a new, deeper connection that didn't need to be voiced.

"No."

"But Quisty-"

She held up a hand to end his protest. Reluctantly, the SeeD silenced himself, but added a pout as a last attempt for her to change her mind. "I have things to do," she told him, gesturing to the stack of papers that she had no intentions of touching.

"They can wait!" Zell continued to pout, "You haven't been out with us in so long, and we miss you," there was such sincerity in his tone that gave pause to Quistis. There was a fraction of her being that wanted to cave, just so he wouldn't sound so broken.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses, heaving an exasperated sigh, "I'm sorry Zell, I just don't feel up to it."

"Geez Quisty, you've been so, you know, different since the accident. Would you just maybe talk to us?" He was pleading with her now.

"Now you need to leave." A violent wave of devastation overtook her and closed her throat. What followed was a rage she could taste like bile on her tongue.

The blond boy regrettably stood to his feet, defeated and guilty. He couldn't help how he felt, and it was clear that they just might be losing her completely. There seemed to be nothing shining behind those blue irises anymore. "I'm sorry, Quisty." His heart simply ached.

"Good night." Quistis merely stated, her tone cold as arctic ice. Her gaze was like stone to her stack of papers until he left her classroom. When she was satisfied with the click of the door, her arm swung at the exams, the papers flying through the air. The anger that surged through her veins was barely controllable, her face and fingers on fire.

Tender whispers in her head attempted to fuel the fire that was flourishing, the blinding heat of a tantrum. She was right to hate, right to be angry. They wanted to _kill_ her, be done with her existence, right?

There was still a few slivers of rationality loud enough to deter her from that path of thought.

She motioned to grab her belongings when she noticed the forgotten note, laying untouched within her half open desk drawer.

Unfolding the parchment, she read through it quickly.

_Have you heard of that nightclub in Deling called "Underground Illusion?"_

_Yeah, it's weird. I heard Goth people, and rockers, pimps and stuff go there. There's like, a lot of drugs and stuff. Real creepy._

_I don't know. A friend of mine went there like, yesterday, and said he had a blast, though he wasn't real specific on what went on._

_Are you going to check it out?_

_Might. Wanna come with me?_

_Think we'll get in trouble?_

'Underground Illusion'? There was a bit of Intel on the establishment that labeled it as a no-go zone. However, it sounded like a good place to let off some steam.

_It sounds...deplorable..._

Logical Quistis was being overridden tonight.

Work would wait.

* * *

"You said what!?" Selphie shrilled the question as she stared at Zell with disbelieving eyes. "How could you!?"

Zell ran his fingers through his hair as he hung his head low. He sat at one of the cafeteria lunch tables, elbows to the edge as he spilled his guts in detail about the conversation between himself and Quistis, everything from the invitation to the slip of the lip. "I didn't mean to! She made me so sad..."

Selphie refrained from smacking him on the back of the head, if only because he looked so pathetic slumped over like a child, guilty for breaking his mothers' favorite vase or something. Irvine pat Selphie's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, and to keep from ringing the poor boys' neck. "She makes us all sad, Zell. Maybe someone else ought to go talk to her."

The girl with the raven hair tenderly rubbed Zell's back in an affectionate manner. They all knew he hadn't meant to cause any unnecessary tension, but what was done was obviously done, and there was no going back to ease away the memories. They would fade and become a distant scar on their own, but for now they could only offer to be the morphine, if she'd only take it. "I could try and talk to her."

"No you won't, Rinoa." Squall protested from the other side of the table. His face held it's usual far off expression, as if he were disconnected from the world and everything around him. Quistis was in a mindset different than any of them were used to. She was delicate, fragile, and too much pressure would break her. "You push her, she'll pull. She'll become a cornered animal eventually, and we all know what happens after that."

"Squall! She's not an animal," Rinoa retorted. She opened her mouth to continue but the Commander jumped in before she had enough pause for the opportunity.

She couldn't remember in recent memory that he had ever done that before.

"We'll leave her alone. The more we press the issue, the more distant she will become."

"But Squall, I think she really needs us!" Selphie argued, her features scrunching together in a frown. His expression didn't falter in the slightest, which usually meant his mind would not be changing, and the void to argue had depleted.

"Leave her alone."

Although there was the vaguest doubt in his mind, Irvine nodded in agreement with Leonhart. They all wished to pull her from the dark abyss she had fallen into, but all they could offer was support. She knew it was there, and it was her move whether to take it or not. Forcing her to do so was the wrong course of action and could painfully backfire. "Squall's right, guys. We just need to give her time and space, and she'll come 'round in no time."

Zell sighed, running his fingers over his eyes. The guilt was thick, and his heart beat rapidly in his chest. "I think I should at least apologize."

Squall folded his arms at his chest as he slouched ever so slightly in his seat, "Did you apologize before you left her?"

Zell nodded, his head still down, eyes averted from everyone else.

"Then don't bother. Once is enough."

Heartilly frowned at her lover. For some reason she felt he was being unusually cold this evening. Truthfully, he had been cold much longer than that. However, she understood he still retained some difficulty in showing his true emotion. Cold was just easier. Even if sometimes he was unnecessarily cold to her as well...

Her visage softened at him, "So what do we do?"

At this time, Squall stood to leave them, straightening his jacket before regarding them one final time. "We'll follow through with our plans for the night."

_Even if they will be difficult to enjoy..._

Squall cleared his mind before speaking again.

"Seven, right?"

The rest nodded.

"I have a few things to take care of. I'll meet you all there." With that, Leonhart turned his back to the rest of his friends. It was the first time during their meeting that his expression faltered into the vaguest look of anguish. Deep within his mind, thought he knew. He thought he knew what kept Quistis down, but wasn't certain. And if he was right, the situation was so much more delicate than the others could have possibly anticipated.

No, it was better to keep everything he thought and felt to himself. Maybe...things would come out for the better by themselves without needless intervention.

Because he thought he might need her.

Zell made one final, exasperated sigh, and looked about him to each face that wore the same worried and down trodden expression. Quistis was sad-and now they all were. "So...whose hungry?"

* * *

This whole idea was so beyond her. It was strange that the idea had even come to fruition within her mind. A nightclub? To let off 'steam'? What she would normally be doing is grading papers, or catching up with Squall and Cid as to the next course of action with Deling...not going to a _club. _And when does one arrive at a nightclub? Nine? Ten? Fifteen minutes to dawn? Quistis didn't know. Why would she? She'd never attended a place like this. Another issue was at hand as well. What to wear. Her closet was mostly filled with casual wear, too casual for a nightclub, as well as elegant, ballroom attire. Far too dressy. Accept, maybe...

Her eyes searched through her garments fluidly, as if looking for something in particular, yet nothing in particular at all. Until she came upon it. A simple, scarlet satin dress, it's length ending just above the knee, spaghetti strapped and low cut. One could only wonder where she acquired such a thing. A memory did creep into her mind-A shopping binge with Rinoa and Selphie, both partners in fashion urging her to purchase it. They said it made her look like some vixen from some off the wall B-movie bar scene. Of course, the comment was made as a compliment. Though now, with those dark tendrils of loathing, she wasn't so sure. At the time, she felt the buy was a complete mistake and a judgmental misstep in her normally smooth record of decisions.

Well, it was going to come in handy tonight.

Shaking her hand, free of it's clip, she pulled the dress from it's hanger and slipped it over her black bra and matching panties. Something struck her as odd, and a deep pain settled in her stomach as she gazed into her full length mirror. Her eyes were no longer familiar to her. She was no longer familiar. The blond hair, the color of her irises; that was the same. But as a whole, the eyes that reflected back what was inside her was tainted-red and raw and charred. Someone else was there with her, and it was frightening.

A fist came to her red painted lips as if to hold back the sudden dread that may spill forth, and she turned from the mirror with haste. Disgusting.

But whatever was inside was able to make her forget and remember what it wanted. And it wanted to party.

Only partly satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed a raven duster from her closet and slipped it on. Last thing to grab was her purse. She checked the minimal contents within, accounting for her I.D. card, key for the vehicle she signed off on, and gil.

A final glance at the clock.

Nine thirty. Late enough. She moved to slip out of her room, and shut off the lights in her wake.

Her high-heeled boots tapped against the polished flooring a little louder than she would have preferred. She felt as if she were a teenaged delinquent escaping from her room without parents permission. She wanted to be left alone, yet a large part of her still yearned for acceptance, for friendship, for love...

But something was keeping her from accepting it from the people who truly cared for her.

So much had happened, and so much was still going on inside of her; an internal battle between Quistis Trepe and a nameless faceless presence that craved everything the SeeD found either questionable or distasteful. It acted with no regard for others, and she wasn't strong enough to say no. Perhaps this was a new piece of her existence that was birthed in her slumber, and she had yet to accept it.

Perhaps they were simply one and the same.

There was a familiar giggle by a pair of females walking toward her. Panic set in at her gut as she turned tail and fled back into her quarters, muffling her boots click with carefully placed steps. Stealth was not something she was a novice at.

One could hear Rinoa's high-pitched giggling a mile away. It repulsed her how that girl could feel so...light, so cheerful. Or at least fake it. And Selphie was no better. Always upbeat and full of fucking caffeine.

These thoughts of her friends were not familiar either, but she was certain she felt them. And strongly.

Relief washed over her as they passed her door. For some reason however, them whisking by without a moment's hesitation upset her just as much as if she were to have collided with them unexpectedly. Quistis wasn't sure what she wanted from them anymore.

Leaving her room a second time, she dashed down the hall, taking extra care to remain unnoticed.

She almost went back. This idea was so foolish, it couldn't possibly end well. It was beyond her comprehension. She was a solider and did have the ability to weave herself into unfamiliar and dangerous situations, but this concept was far from alien; it was asinine. Regardless of those feelings, she continued, her thoughts between staying and leaving batting back and forth like a tennis ball between two rackets.

Coming upon the circular hall, she entered the parking garage only to halt abruptly. Someone was behind her. And she knew who it was as well, which caused her blood to freeze, yet only for an instant. Slowly, the Instructor turned to face her former student with a glimmer of kindness behind her eyes, "Something I can do for you, Commander?" she asked softly as said Commander began to approach her, almost hesitantly.

"You could tell me where you are going." As usual, his voice was deadpan, emotionless. But this time it seemed like he was forcing it.

Well Quistis could match that quite nicely. "On a date." She lied. It was hard. She wanted to be open and honest and trusting with him. But the darkness battled her and demanded secrecy. He would stop their fun somehow if he knew.

Squall raised a brow, a little taken back by her answer. She had taken to lying, which was unlike her character. A lot of things were unlike her character, lately... "Then why did you tell Zell you were going to be working tonight?"

"Can't a girl get a break?" Trepe answered with a shrug. There was no remorse in her tone, yet the flash of surprise in her features that faded as quickly as it arrived didn't match.

This was the first time Squall had bothered to look into her eyes. They were blue, but dull. As if a dark cloud had blocked that light that normally sparkled through. She was living and breathing, but something detrimental to her spirit was missing. He was never one to pay attention to frivilous details, but this was just too hard and obvious to miss. "So whose the guy?'

"Seifer." She lied again.

The quip stung briefly, but he managed to collect himself before she noticed.

The pause was enough to give her the time to turn her back and continue on her way, calling back as she went, "Good night, Commander. Don't wait up."

Little did she know, he probably would.


	2. Crimson

**Authors Note: This has been revised.**

**Chapter Two**

This was nothing she expected.

The line simply to reach the doorway to the nightclub was almost unfathomable. However, out of the amount of people attempting to get inside, half of that was being ushered out for a variety of reasons. Some reasons Quistis figured had to do with alcohol, fights, and so on. Of course, she couldn't be certain on anything at this point.

She did however, quickly reach the conclusion she wasn't quite suited for the occasion. Many of those in the line wore something dark, sexy, dangerous, and other inappropriate words that came to mind. None of these options tended to be the Instructors' style-neither was the dress that she was wearing if she was honest with herself. Still, there were those of average appearance; casually dressed attempting to reach the double doors. These were also individuals who reeked of green with their sweaty palms and shifty eyes. The bouncer tending the door gave a simple look of pity and turned them away. They certainly weren't regulars, and would probably be ripped apart in a place like that.

Trepe wondered if they'd look at her and come to the same conclusion.

Well dammit, she was a SeeD. She was also one of the saviors of the world not terribly long ago, though her face was not so promptly recognized as perhaps Squall's was. Even that being the case, enough time seemed to have passed for the praising and celebrity status to fade. Just as well, that type of attention could be damaging just as it was ego boosting. Nonetheless, pulling rank may be the only way to get her into this place if she couldn't quell the anxiety that threatened to burst through her chest.

After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the Bouncer who was a tall and well built individual. Well groomed as well with his somewhat long, golden hair brushed and pulled into a tight ponytail. His face had a few scars to it's otherwise smooth surface. His attire was something else; adorned in a sleek, raven tee, loose fitting pleather pants with a matching pleather trench coat. His hands sported a pair of fingerless leather gloves, his boots suede and quadruple-buckled at the outer side of his calves. Uniform or from his own closet? One could only guess.

His gaze was piercing as he paid Quistis careful attention, looking her up and down with sea green eyes. She silently wondered if he ever split of a pair of those trousers while knee deep in a brawl...

"I.D. please?" There was a touch of intimidation folded into his voice.

Without much hesitation, she withdrew the only form of identification on her person and handed it to his awaiting hand. He took a good long look at the card and his entire hardass demeanor collapsed.

Well, some people still remembered, apparently.

Quistis noticed the change in an instant, "Listen, I'm not here on official business or anything. Off duty, you can say. I'm just looking to...have fun."

The blonde man before her blinked a few times before nodding and handing the I.D. back to her, "I'd warn you about going in there alone, but I think you can handle yourself, can't you?"

_You have no idea..._

She smiled sweetly and slipped a few gil into his palm, "Just keep this between us, hm?" She gave him a playful wink before stepping past him quickly enough to miss the rose tint that lit up his cheeks.

* * *

In his private quarters, Squall Leonhart surrounded himself in silence. Nothing but his steady breath and the lively crickets beyond the window that bathed his room in a subtle moonlit glow. Silence and darkness was a comfort to the Commander when nothing else was. The heels of his boots were mindlessly propped upon the edge of his unmade bed as he sat still in his desk chair with fingers folded tightly within themselves as his mind delved into deep contemplation.

It wasn't often that he had an opportunity to be utterly and completely alone with his thoughts. Frankly, he was surprised he wasn't being disturbed by _something _or _someone_ despite the late hour. Like Rinoa.

There was a tight knot at the pit of his stomach as his thoughts came to rest on her. How their love was destined to be, designed by Hyne himself it seemed, or so it was printed in the text of variations of the Second Sorceress War. A Sorceress and her Knight. He didn't ask for this. Hell, he didn't ask to be the damned Commander of the Garden but he was saddled with the duty anyway, perhaps too chicken to step down. It was a monstrous obligation that fate seemed to give him no opening to bow out. He was expected to have this life and live it to the fullest.

It was times like this that he was jealous of his lifetime adversary. He may have been a lapdog, but now he was free of the shackles of Garden and everything military bound.

So here he was-in the dark for some semblance of peace.

But peace was simply an illusion to the never ending thoughts, wonders, memories, inquires that comprised Squall Leonhart, many that never made it beyond the fabric of his mind.

Well, except to one person...

_The steady beep of the life support machine was the only response he received as he spoke to a motionless Instructor Trepe. His friend. His silent therapist._

_"It's been three years since Ultimecia and her crazy dream of Time Compression. Three years to the day. Something we'll probably never be able to forget, despite the hindrance of the Guardian Force's. Sometimes I wish I could."_

_He sighed, squeezing the pale hand tight within his grasp. No response, as usual._

_"Things...they just aren't right anymore. Rinoa and I...it's different. During the first couple years, everything was fine. We...I thought, I was in love. That there was no force in this world that could drive a far enough wedge between us to keep us apart."_

_Another sigh._

_"I love her. I know I do. But it feels as though it's changed... My heart-I don't lose my breath when he see her walk into a room, I don't feel the need to tell her anything, not like I am you. It doesn't feel like the deepest sense of emotion anymore, but more like a shadow of once was. Everyone believes, or believed, we're meant to be. Even you."_

_He paused, touching his infamous scar with his free hand, tracing a line down where it ended just beyond his eye._

_"Star-crossed lovers. I don't feel it. I don't know."_

_Fingers grazed through thick, brown hair as he leaned forward, elbows upon his knees, bringing the hand he held to his lips, simply pressing them there. He wondered if she could feel his need, his need for her to wake and have at least one thing in his life make sense again. _

_"I'll give it more time. Maybe it's the pressure of SeeD, of being the Commander, the expectations. I'll...give it more time."_

_Time. It was always more time. Would it ever run out?_

_And the ever present drone of the life support machine marched on in the background_

A knock.

Even in the late hours of the night, someone had to come and interrupt his thoughts. It was a knock he had memorized, though he was somewhat surprised she simply didn't enter his quarters without request of entry.

He reluctantly pushed himself to his feet and sauntered over to the locked door. Rinoa stood in the doorway with her customary, charming smile placed upon her visage. "Hello, Rinoa." Squall couldn't mask the note of irritation, and he internally flinched as soon as he heard the slip.

Heartilly didn't seem to notice, or chose not to make a production of it, "Hey. Can I come in?"

Leonhart hesitated a little too long. Suppressing a sigh, he moved to the side to allow her access.

The Sorceress took note of the darkness and frowned, just barely visible. "Why is it so gloomy?"

_Because it's comforting, unlike this conversation... _ "I wanted to concentrate."

Surprisingly enough, Rinoa didn't begin a collection of pointless questions to try and get to the root of what may be troubling him despite how many times he denied nothing was wrong at all, which only got on his last good nerve and caused him to completely shut down. At one time, which now seemed like an eternity, he was close to an open book with her. But things changed.

She got comfortable on his bed, slender hands to her knees as she regarded him kindly, yet concerned through the blanket of muted black, "You were quiet tonight. You haven't really been talking much to anyone, to me, and when you do it's either about work or Quistis."

He closed the door behind her, avoiding an eye roll, "You aren't jealous are you?" Squall asked with dry sarcasm. He leaned his back against the closed door, looking toward the floor to avoid her gaze. This was not a conversation that was going to put him at peace_.._.

Rinoa's face wrinkled at the inquiry, "Of course not. That's weird to even say. I'm just worried about you. Quistis is so strange, so distant, and it almost feels like you're becoming the same way. You can talk to me, like...like you used to."

Squall pierced his lips firmly together, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. He was distant, and it wasn't fair to her. However, he couldn't force the connection either. "I'm just a little stressed. I need some sleep."

This was obviously not a satisfactory answer. Before he knew it, she had her arms tightly around his waist, her head against his chest. The scent of her assaulted him, bringing a slew of memories that were once a comfort, now a distant memory that made him weary, "Squall...I'm here for you. Don't forget that. You and me, against the world, right?"

He was very still as he swallowed. Tentatively, he placed his arms around her fragile frame. No, it just wasn't the same anymore...

"Rinoa," he began, unsure of what he wanted to say, if anything. He had been content with the crickets, the darkness, the memories of when he confided in Quistis, his theoretical wall. He didn't want this guilt that was stabbing him, gutting him where he stood.

Somehow, he shifted out of her embrace and stood off to the side of the door. He still couldn't quite look at her. "I just...need some space to think, to clear my head. We'll talk in the morning. I have to get up early and meet with General Caraway."

The air became cold and her tone timid, "...May I come along? I mean, I technically live there, but..."

"It's business." Squall sighed, realizing that it was pointless to try and dissuade her from attending. "Yeah."

There was a glimmer of a genuine smile beaming from the Sorceress' face. He wished he could return it, "Great! What time?"

"Be ready by six," he answered as he pulled the door open for her.

He could tell she was suppressing the urge to pout, since he was kindly kicking her out instead of asking her to stay. Still, she put on a brave face and gave him a kiss to his cheek before left without another word.

Shutting the door behind her, Squall heaved a heavy sigh. The weight upon his shoulders was cumbersome, but the weight upon his heart was agonizing...

* * *

Just beyond the door that had clicked behind her, Rinoa found herself breaking apart at the seams. She felt the shift, the change in her bones. But she prayed, begged for it...a little more time.

She'd give him a little more time.

* * *

It was nothing like Quistis had ever seen.

Techno rock was booming at a deafening volume. Had she not be accused to the piercing sounds of battle she may have covered her ears. The place itself was almost as disgusting as much as it was enchanting. The atmosphere of it all was dark, dreary, with an array of different color spot lights roaming the vast dance floor. And no club would be complete without the ever present strobe light. Red and black leather couches and tiny mahogany tables were placed along the walls, each occupied with anywhere from two to ten people on one. There was a stage, but it was certainly hard to tell. Bodies were packed together like sardines in a tin, but the majority were grinding to the beat and appeared to be lost in rhythm.

The dance floor was a plated ruby tile reaching the length of the complex just shy of the littered barstands. There was a staircase that led to the clubs second level, and a red-lit hallway beyond. She wondered briefly where it went before returning her eyes before her.

It smelled of a sickening distinction; alcohol, smoke, sex... This place represented a different sort of danger that the Instructor was not accustom to, but the foreign entity within craved the precariousness of the locale.

And these people...they simply mesmerized her by their movement, their look, their _aura_. If their attire wasn't dark and form fitting, as if a second skin, they were barely wearing any at all-and no one appeared to be protesting.

There was still the part of Quistis that felt excruciatingly awkward with the whole affair and wished to flee. There was at least some sort of compromise that came alive that began leading her toward the stairs to the upper level. She aimed her way toward one of the bars as she brushed by several different people, many of whom were slick with sweat that caused her a small sense of dread. Blood, gore, burn wounds she could handle, but the sweat from multiple strangers were ghastly. Several stares and glares, lingering and otherwise followed her moving form from the entrance and finally to a newly vacant stool at her destination.

The stares were almost overwhelming, and there was a sudden panic within her chest. Was she recognized? Was it the way she was dressed? Or did they sense she was a newcomer, and made the conclusion she just didn't belong? No matter what the conclusion may be, she didn't move.

Her attention was at once directed to the approaching figure, a female bartender who was dark skinned with bleach blonde hair with braided extensions to her narrow shoulders. Her attire fit in the bouncers-black, pleather, and form fitting. "What will it be?" She had to practically shout the inquiry, her hands gripping the counter as she leaned over.

"Cok-...Rum, straight." Quistis replied hesitantly. She hadn't had much to do with alcohol, usually shying away from the liquid, thought inducing drug. If she did indulge, it was normally that of more classier caliber such as champagne or a mellow Merlot. Such drinks would attract even more attention, so she ordered what she had seen Irvine partake in so frequently.

The bartender left the honey blond Instructor to fix the drink she requested. The stares were beginning to ebb away, her entrance now a distant memory. She didn't feed into the predatory vibes, as an unconscious part of her SeeD training, and the thrill of following her every move fell away.

Before she could fully grasp her bearings, she was approached from behind. She never sensed the man as he slithered his lips to her ear, and that terrified her more than anything she had seen so far, "I know you."

The SeeD suppressed a shudder as she turned the individual to gaze upon him with an inquisitive look. Being recognized was certainly a possibility, so she kept her cool demeanor in check as she surveyed him.

He was a clean-cut with hair spiked by the aid of handfuls of gel no doubt, deep brown in color. He wore a tight leather purple tank, leather black pants hugging his legs and hips. He was so thin; his skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. Vitamin D must be scarce in his system.

She couldn't distinguish what color his eyes truly were due to the ivory contacts, and they stared heavily into her own. So strange, unnatural looking. They reminded her of Trabia's snow covered plains, cold and treacherous. A chill swept over her from the memory, "Do I look that familiar?" she replied flatly. There was something slightly off about this young man, as well as familiar.

"You do," he smiled kindly, almost cutely as he pulled her to her feet only momentarily as he took her seat, and set her down upon his lap. "You're a SeeD."

His movements were so swift and fluid, she was completely taken off guard by them. There was certainly some resistance in the folds of her mind to be uptight, expectant of any and all behavior. Something inside her was forcing her to simply go with the flow...

She didn't immediately retreat, and when the bartender arrived with her rum, she rummaged through her purse for some gil, but a hand to her wrist halted any further discourse, "My tab." The bartender nodded with a smirk and was off to attend the next customer.

A slight frown found it's way to Quistis' face, not quite reaching her eyes. "You didn't need to do that."

"Oh Ms. Trepe, still so fiercely independent! Think of it as a gift for my old classmate!" The man waved a hand dismissively and winked a pearly eye. When she stared at him in perplexity, he grinned. "Arbitor, from Galbadia."

Her eyes flared with recognition. Arbitor, otherwise known as Peter Gainses, a temporary transfer from Galbadia to Balamb. He had been in her class for only a few months before he returned to what was familiar. The only one who cared to get along with the poor outcast was Quistis, who at the time was feeling like an outcast herself. How small a world it truly was, "Arbitor...It's been so long." Truthfully, she was surprised she remembered him at all due to the influence of the Guardian Forces. However, upon learning how devastating the long term disadvantage was, she had slacked off it's usage.

He nodded solemnly, handing her the glass of rum with a little snicker. "Totally. Seems you've crossed over to the dark side of town." He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

Quistis took the glass as she scoffed, and downed the liquor in only moments. This considerably astonished Arbitor who had known little Trepe to be against unnecessary risks that had nothing to do with SeeD, but that was another story...

The rum burned her throat, and she wanted to cough but stifled it's release. She could get used to this. "Seems you've jumped to the other side of the fence," the SeeD commented, gesturing toward the rainbow ring on his left hand which was placed upon her thigh comfortably. She hadn't even noticed until that moment. Only now did she begin to remember the way he looked at the other boys, and how he occasionally mentioned Squall...

Arbitor gave a hearty laugh, though the undertones of femininity were quite evident. "Yeah, well, I love the cock." He licked his lips and obscenely made the blow job gesture with a hand and tongue motion. He did get a quiet chuckle from the prim and proper Quistis.

She became serious for a moment, "I heard you dropped out of SeeD."

Arbitor merely shrugged his shoulders, running a hand up and down the Instructors' nylon thigh with a grin. It caused a disorienting flare between her legs, yet she didn't brush him away. She remembered he was a smooth and stealthy fighter during the sparring matches she had witnessed. Apparently he found different uses for his talents... "I did. But must we speak of that?"

She lifted a brow as she pulled back to gaze into his eyes. Quistis was often quite perceptive, but perception wasn't necessary to tell that there were foreign factors contributing to his mental state. "What are you on?"

A goofy grin invaded his features as he buried his fingers into Trepes' honey blond hair and pulled her ear closer to his lips. His tone was provocative and raucous, "E..." He ended the statement with a giggle.

"Explains it," Quistis rolled her eyes and smiled. Another time, another place she would have criticized the former SeeD for his disastrous choices. Of course, this wasn't the setting, and simply being here brought the praise 'calling the kettle black' to mind. "I must stick out like a sore thumb for you to have found me so easily."

The man quickly agreed with a nod of his head, giving the inside of her thigh a light pinch. She assumed the drug was primarily responsible for his bold touches upon his childhood acquaintance, considering it was earlier established he no longer swung her way. "You stick out like an Estharian soldier in Dollet. Not exactly standard, lowdown club attire, darling. Also, we know who belongs and who doesn't. It's just, the vibes we get. We just kinda know when someone is in here that shouldn't be, or who hasn't been here before."

The Instructors' features tightened just a smidgen, "And how do I 'belong'?"

Arbitor just grinned all the wider. "I think I ought to introduce you to some friends of mine."

Maybe Quistis just wasn't ready to associate with the regulars of this club, this foreign complex of risk and opportunity, and a great wave of fear hit her like a rush of bullets. No matter what was running through her head, she soon felt herself being tugged through the bristling bunch of dancers, drunks and smokers to one of the occupied leather couches she'd noticed when she first walked into the location. The music was not quite as deafening, but the necessity to shout to be heard was still present.

There were four settled upon this sofa; two women and two men, none regarding her kindly at first glance. However, once they caught sight of Arbitor, they seemed to relax. It appeared to Quistis that no one was fond of the unfamiliar and unassociated.

"This is a friend of mine, Q-"

Quistis at once interrupted Arbitor from his introduction. The last thing she needed was anyone bobbing around this place with her full name in tow. She was already taking a gamble in being there. Hyne knew she didn't want it to get to the wrong person. Hell, someone already recognized her and she hadn't been there five minutes. Thankfully, that was someone from her somewhat distant past. "Crimson. I'm known as Crimson." Where she had come up with the name was beyond her. Perhaps it was the sight of the dress that sparked an interest in the alias. No matter the reason, it appeared to have worked, since no one questioned her. In fact, no one said anything to her at all. They seemed to be engrossed in their own gatherings and took little notice of anyone or anything else.

She had a feeling they were all partaking in the same extracurricular activities as her friend.

Arbitor smirked at her for the interruption, but didn't question it. What he did do was shove her upon one of his mutual friend's laps who pulled an AniMeer Beer bottle from his lips and fingered a joint with his opposite hand. Quistis' eyes flew large, her heart beating intensely from the fear of falling, of suddenly having no control of her body. Fortunately, or unfortunately, her battle instincts failed to kick in, and she found herself straddling a nameless man. She blushed furiously, her hands stiff against his chest where she moved them to brace herself from the collision.

"Well, good evening," the nameless man greeted with a coy grin, his eyes a light brown, though heavy and nearly closing from the effects of the drug between his fingers. He reeked of it. His hair was moderately short, to his earlobes and dark but streaked with a light shade of blue. He laid back shirtless, though his upper torso and chest were covered with various tattoos, primarily words in the Esthar tongue. He wore jeans, extremely loose and adorned with several needless zippers. He was possibly the most average looking attendant there besides herself.

Quistis took notice of both objects just as Arbitor settled between the friend and another male, who immediately cuddled up to his side. "That's Culdin. Say hi, Crimson."

She shot him a look of daggers, but complied, looking warily at Culdin, embarrassed nearly to the point of humiliation. "Hi." She turned to Arbitor. "Has anyone told you are entirely too aggressive?" Arbitor simply grinned smugly and gave the beau snuggling to his left a sensuous kiss to his lips.

This was all so...odd and different. The only thing she was sure of, was she was...strangely comfortable. It was an odd thing to recognize, to know this was almost the complete opposite of what she had lived all of her life. A life of orders and discipline to a life free of any of it. That void, that emptiness in her soul was slowly beginning to fill, but there was a part of her felt it was artificial.

But the part didn't keep chattering for very long.

She shifted from the man beneath her despite the pout of protest, and slipped her way back to Arbitor. He was at least somewhat familiar. Arbitor grinned from ear to ear as he paid careful attention to the blond outcast. He snaked a bold arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him, to where his lips reached her lobe, "We have got to do something about your clothes the next time you come."

"Next time?" Quite the assumption.

"Well, you've lasted the first ten minutes..." Arbitors' silver-haired lover chided. "Most usually come again for a second session. This place is addicting." He wiggled his thin, plucked brows suggestively.

Quistis couldn't argue. She had no desire to leave. "What do you suggest?" she asked her old friend.

He regarded her with mischievous deliberation, looking at her toned, slender form from head to toe. "Something...supportive, _very _supportive here..." he caressed the underside of her breast, to which she thought little of. He was gay and high. Poor guy could probably hardly see straight, "...tight here!" he reached beneath her to squeeze her rear, to which she slapped his arm reflexively, "Or...nothing at all."

Culdin's' eyes glowed with the comment while Trepe was not very amused. She still had a swell of dignity, "Watch it." She scolded in her rather familiar when-I'm-in-my-no-nonsense-mood-you-better-heed-my-warning tone of voice. Arbitor only looked at her with seemingly innocent, wide ivory eyes. She sighed. "What is your sudden fascination in me?"

"I want to introduce you to another side of life-the one away from SeeD, work, and those hell spawn students you teach." Yes, he knew all about it. After all, she, along with Mr. Squall Leonhart, SeeD Commander of Balamb Garden and several other comrades were universally known for saving the world. While most of the world had let the enchantment of the tale fade and it's characters along with it, his memory remained crisp and detailed. Perhaps she had forgotten how they befriended one another, and how she was his stability during his months of schooling. He wasn't cut out for SeeD, unable to handle the hard work and discipline it called for, despite how desperate his parents were for him to make something of himself. And since he knew all of this, he knew one such as Quistis, who appeared to be so high-strung, needed time away, time to relax, time to let it all hang out. There was something within her yearning to break free, and he was just he one to help her shatter the walls that confined it. "I bet you just want to ring their necks out sometimes."

Trepe couldn't disagree with that. She didn't say anything as something small and white was shoved in her face, smoke rising from one of its tips. She shook her head in rejection, "No thank you."

"Awww Crimson babe, give it a try," Culdin cooed into her ear, giving her somewhat of a leery gaze, "you might like it."

Her face contorted into a slight frown as she breathed in the second hand fumes. The smell itself wasn't wanting, and it even caused a brief light headed sensation. She looked to Arbitor as if seeking advice, but he had temporarily become fascinated in his little fancy. With a sigh, she took the joint from between Culdins' fingers, and with a glimmer of hesitation she brought the rolled flaming weed to her lips, and breathed in. The mild delirium was even more intense, as a burning tingle encased the back of her throat. And then a cough. All expected, but this didn't keep Arbitor from giggling with feeble femininity. "Your first taste of Mary Jane. How do you like her?"

Quistis didn't grant him with a verbal answer. She instead took her second hit and passed it back to it's' owner. It was only seconds before she erupted into giggles. The drug was working rapidly through her system, teasing her brain with slow motion and remote dizziness. "She's nice."

Laughter. This time from Quistis and the trio of men she accompanied on the leather sofa. The females were engaged in other, raunchy practices and didn't take any notice in their activities.

"There's something else I think you should try..." Arbitor began, parting himself from his fancy to dig into his pocket.

Quistis lifted a brow at him in suspicion, but continued to carry a mellow grin upon her features with Culdin bringing his fingers through her silky hair while nursing his beer. "And what would that be? That shit you're on?"

That was precisely it. He brought forth a tablet, the small drug resting in his palm for Quistis to see and take. When she did not make a move for it, the boy gestured for her to do so. Hesitant in her movements, she slowly and carefully took the item between her fingers, gazing as if to inspect the small particle. "This isn't safe, is it?"

"Who cares?" Culdin chimed, taking in the final whiff of his darling Mary Jane and disposed of the bud in the ashtray in front of him, "You didn't come here to feel safe, did you?"

She swallowed hard, the pill still in her grasp. With an exasperated sigh, she shook her head, meaning to give it back. Something in back of her mind told her this wasn't safe at all. This time she was going too far. But Arbi wasn't having it. "Crimson, baby, you'll like it. I promise..."

There was a scream of protest in the back of her mind. Faint and fading fast, but it was there and haunting. It was a scream that did not want to surrender, that wanted to reclaim the control it was losing. But it was as if it was shoved into a closet and with the slam of a door, and the scream was silenced. All that was left was the pill, and the people waiting for her next move.

Trepe popped the pill into the back of her throat and swallowed. Culdin, Arbitor and his beau grinned all the while, waiting, anticipating the drug to take its inevitable affect. It wouldn't be immediate, not like the marijuana was. No, Ecstasy was a gradual sensation that spread throughout the body, increasing ones' heartbeat, heart rate and blood flow. And this was just what the Instructor began to experience. And during this time, Arbitor and his lover discussed something quietly, discreetly...

The descent was gradual, and then it spiraled at the speed of light. Something cracked inside of her, a hairline that widened more and more and something beautiful and terrible was spilling out from its prison. Touches were magnified bliss, sound was orgasmic, the hair from her skin standing on end. It took the farthest reaches into her psyche of self restraint not to grind her aching body against the closest living thing. This rush, this feeling was foreign and unusual, but thrilling all the same. When a hand stroked the inside of her thigh a second time that night, she squirmed, the caress bringing forth a gasp.

"I promised. Was I wrong?" Arbitor cooed playfully, giving her thigh a light pinch.

Quistis erupted into a growl, a sound so unnatural coming from the proud and prude Instructor Trepe. She turned her body to straddle her former childhood classmate, who was visibly stunned by this sudden development. The beau at his side watched intensely, his eyes glowing bright blue with something, but not jealousy like one would expect. "It's quite a shame you jumped the fence. I would have enjoyed playing with you on the other side." She purred. This behavior was so unlike her usual demeanor; prim, proper and no nonsense, to see her exhibiting this feisty disposition was an odd turn-on-even for one who did jump the fence.

Arbitor merely grinned with wide, curious eyes, sending his fingers delicately through her now damp blond hair, her body having been perspiring from the foreign substances and the bright spotlights, and tightened them around the tresses, "You little minx...tell me, when was the last time you had a good time?"

She didn't answer. Despite the drugs in her system, she was coherent enough to know exactly what he implied, and was embarrassed to answer.

"You know what I mean, don't you?" Arbi merely smirked, glancing over at his partner a moment, who nodded in silent approval. "When was the last time you got fucked?"

Again no answer. In truth, she had always been so caught up with SeeD, her studies and the like that she never even really had a steady boyfriend. Flings as it were, and never for any significant amount of time. When she became an Instructor, sex was the last thing from her mind, in the sense of actually getting it. There were fantasies of course, many involving Squall, and perhaps a few others that caught her wandering eye on occasion. They were fantasies-nothing she ever saw herself acting upon.

Arbitor almost looked sad for a moment, moving a free hand to graze her left breast which caused her to writhe graciously. "Zale, I think this poor darling is a virgin. Isn't that a shame?"

The ex-SeeD's lover nodded in reply, his attention intensely focused upon the Instructor. "It is. What should we do about it?"

This was something she hadn't expected. "Shouldn't that be up to me to decide on what to do?"

Arbitor put a finger to her lips momentarily, "All we were going to do was make an offer."

Zale motioned to stroke her cheek, which she welcomed and pressed into. E was working through her body more gravely now, making it a little difficult to concentrate at all. "And the offer is...?"

"You see," Arbitor began, breaking his gaze to Trepe for a few moments to give a light, yet passionate kiss to Zales' full-lined lips, "I crossed the fence to the point of no return. But Zale...he's, you can say, suspended in the center, unmoving. And even though I'm one-sided-"

"He likes to watch me play with others, male and female." Zale finished for his boyfriend. "Our relationship is very open."

Quistis absorbed all of this with slight difficulty. So what were they saying exactly? Zale would use her like a piece of meat while Arbitor got off on it?

"Let him give you an experience you'll never forget, and deserve. I promise it will be worth it." So Arbitor put it in kinder words. Didn't escape the fact that she'd still be banged in a loveless fashion.

The screams continued behind the door, fists banging relentlessly in vehement disapproval as the crack widened further.

Quistis considered-a little too quickly. "When...and where?"

Arbitor and Zale grinned simultaneously. "Now, and up there." Arbi pointed up, while Zale gestured toward a flight of stairs toward the far back of the nightclub.

Crimson felt several shivers travel up her spine. So she was really doing this. The doubt was bound far and away, and what was left was the need to move forward, the need to release all inhibitions and to accept something new.

This would be progress, Crimson rationalized.

Yet the doubt kept screaming...

* * *

The room was noticeably unkempt, the bed sheets wrinkled and rumpled in several places and the random furnishings clearly undusted. These rooms within the club were meant for only one thing-sex in so many ways and private drug binges. Arbitor, being a frequent visitor of the club, could always get a room. Or he sucked the owner's dick. Who knew at this point.

There was a fleeting sense of trepidation that was brushed away before it could become tangible.

It was quite the task in getting to the room, trying to keep Culdin from becoming too upset from being uninvited to their escapades. He was silenced when the duo of non-conversational females allowed him to engage in a playtime of their own.

And so here she was, both boys at either side of her, each holding carefully to an arm. Once Arbitor shut the door behind them, it was on.

Before Quistis knew what was happening, she was lifted clear off her feet into the arms of Arbitor who was briefly struggling with her form. She was probably twice as strong as he, his lanky body showing off little muscle definition at all, though she certainly gave him an A for effort. Her body tensed instinctively, but didn't fight him. He wasn't rough, just quick. She hadn't even noticed Zale had made it to the queen bed before she had been laid carefully upon it. She sat up a bit too quickly, a little confused at what was going on, the drugs still in her system and at its full potency.

There was little time for her to react to anything. Zale had come upon her like a panther to its prey, pushing her upon her back to which she submitted to the force with no resistance. She felt something warm and alive behind her, and beneath her. Realizing her head now rested in Arbitors' lap, she relaxed just a bit more. There were so many things she was feeling-fear, excitement, arousal. She found difficulty doing much more than laying there, not quite able to wrap her head around what she had gotta herself into.

The lights had been long since flipped off, only the dim light from the moon and the stench of expired cigarettes and fornication lingered with the trio now.

"Relax, and enjoy..." Zale purred, watching his lover gather the material of Quistis' elegant dress in his fingers, hiking it to her waist. Quistis felt relaxed and rigid at the same time. Her eyes never moved from Zale who took this time to pull her nylons and panties carefully, fluidly, from her legs. With mindful regard, he set the garments off to the side and over the edge of the bed, slithering down the length of the blond beauty's' pale and slender thighs, fingers tips gently caressing the outer region of her feathery lips.

Trepe had no control over the situation, and she wasn't complaining. An elongated moan came from her parted mouth as the silver-haired beau teased her tamed golden mass down below. Her fingers motioned to grab at the ruffled sheets, but Arbitors' fingers entwined with hers before the opportunity was given. She squeezed firmly, her back arching as Zale further explored. She willing spread her legs when she felt his faint breath breeze by over her yellow strands.

Quistis' eyes were closed, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, and before she knew it, her arousal was at full throttle. Warmth spread all throughout her shaken body as a pair of masculine lips came between the folds of her dark, moist cavern of femininity.

Zale was not alien to this form of euphoria. He had a few years of experience under his belt, and knew of several areas to touch to cause a woman to writhe and accept the divine delirium of climax. His tongue roamed, lips occasionally kissing at her tender spots which only caused her to drastically squirm. Arbitor tried to soothe said movements with a few of his own, his hands moving from hers, to her hungering breasts, massaging the mounds and teasing the nipples from underneath her satin dress.

There was no describing it-Quistis was reaching a form of ecstasy with no definition. Her mind was in total disarray. There were no thoughts, only feelings, and the drug earlier taken only intensifying her experience.

And when she came to the point of release, her explosion was so powerful, she couldn't help from screaming, her entire body tense from the blissful sensation of pleasure.

Arbitor grinned, satisfied that she was satisfied, and even more satisfied when Zale sat up just as. They made eye contact, silent but staring as if something was being shared between them. They knew what was going to ensue once they reached home. But the primary concern was Quistis. She hadn't moved since her ferocious orgasm.

"Crimson, babe...did you enjoy it? Were you satisfied with my boy?" Arbi questioned softly with a touch of humor, caressing her jaw line with an index finger.

Crimson was more than satisfied. There weren't words she could conjure up to describe the feeling of the aftermath. Her eyes had been opened to a new world, new pleasures and sensations. That night, the splintered crack had been torn asunder, and the entity that resided flourished from its captivity. The beast within was very much alive, and ready for more.

"You can say that," she replied breathlessly, motioning to sit up. Arbitor allowed her to do so, releasing her completely. The men watched her stretch, gazed at her curiously as she ran her fingers through her hair. The brunette couldn't see it, but Zale certainly did. He saw her eyes, her brows drawn together. He saw deep in her irises-they had released a primal beast from within her, and she wouldn't be caged.

With her hands like claws, she lunged for him, fingers gripping his gray, long sleeved knit shirt as she straddled him without a word.

Arbitor merely watched this display in silence, his own arousal of the last encounter, of Quistis' current behavior pressing to his pleather pants.

Crimson, plain and simple, wanted to be fucked, and fucked hard. He could fuck her upside down if he wanted, she didn't give a flying Grat. All she knew was she wanted more, her thirst not yet quenched. She had no time for removing clothes, she was in need of a second round-clothes were optional.

Fumbling with his zipper with shaking hands, she finally freed it. This was where her dominance ended. Zale assumed control, grabbing her roughly by the wrists as he maneuvered their bodies, rolling to land on top of her.

"Your permission, Arbi?" He inquired, his voice thick and husky, unlike the slightly feminine Arbitor. Though their relationship was indeed open, they had not discussed penetration, and would only go through with it if his lover approved.

However, Zale hadn't noticed Arbitors' form had retreated to the headboard, pulling his member from his own pants and slowly, but surely working the organ with exhilarating strokes. "Y-yes..." He shakily replied, giving a careful moan.

Well he knew now, and would go forth with the deed.

Crimson was becoming impatient, the drug still potent, but it would soon be wearing thin. Her nails went to dig at the skin of his shoulders. Did he like it rough? She'd soon find out. When he made a lusty growl at the gesture, she figured it to be a positive reaction.

Enough time was wasted. If she wanted it rough, she'd get it rough. Zale guided her bare legs around his waist, to which she swiftly wrapped and held around his waist, waiting for him, waiting for his dynamic entrance.

It came, and with pain to boot. Crimson twitched involuntarily, holding in the wince of discomfort. But it soon settled, and was replaced by immeasurable ecstasy. He pumped into her, in and out with steady thrusts. These thrusts became stronger, harder and quicker. There were no breaks, no relief. Just pain and pleasure mixed together that left her nearly blind.

Arbitor gawked as he watched the scene unfold into hardcore pleasure, all three participants coming to pleasure with near equal affinity. His release would soon approach, the grunts from Zale, and the less refined moans and groans from Crimson would promptly send him clear over the edge without a parachute.

Pain and pleasure. Tonight they went hand in hand. While Crimson's inner walls were being abused by the constant, strenuous prodding of Zales' member, he was experiencing a pain of his own with his current partners' legs around him to the point of discomfort while thick yet delicate nails dug savagely into his shoulder blades. It was nearly enough to make him bleed. And they were both so close to impact, it was almost unbearable.

Zale gripped Crimsons' waist, his thrusts at maximum velocity, and it caused Quistis to cry out. He gave a throaty groan before he pulled out of the woman beneath him, his body shuddering just before it gave into the explosion.

And they finally came. The trios' release arrived as an assault of spasms and waves of warmth overtook their spent bodies.

A monster was released that night. And she was known as Crimson.


	3. Enemy to Friend

**Author's Note: This has been revised.**

**Chapter Three**

Squall had been to this office many times before, and the tension was always just as thick as the first time. He didn't understand why this couldn't be done over the phone. It was a ten minute meeting, five of which was spent in uncomfortable silence. He had the gnawing feeling that General Caraway simply wanted to make him squirm.

He'd never give him the satisfaction.

"I shall inform my Headmaster," Leonhart stated dryly, yet politely to the General. He had notified the Commander that the terrorist situation was now under the Galbadian army's control, and there was no longer a need for SeeD's assistance. They had certainly handed over a nice chuck of change, but he would be happy to leave the city behind-it was beginning to leave a vile taste in his mouth.

Caraway nodded to the Commander across from his desk, fingers entwined snugly together, "Good. Please make it within the week. Your assistance, of course, is appreciated."

Squall nodded in turn, motioning to rise from his seat, "I assume we are done here." He disliked remaining in that office longer than necessary. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so agonizing if the Commander hadn't been currently dating his daughter.

"Actually, not quite." Caraway gestured with a hand. Squall froze momentarily, and eased himself back into the office chair. "This is on a more personal level; all business aside."

Squall nearly cringed. There was no doubt in his mind where the conversation was heading, and he didn't want to touch it with a fifty foot pole. "What is it?"

The older man studied him for an instant before speaking, deliberating on his next sentence carefully, "My daughter and I aren't entirely too close, even after all of these years; but she does tell me some things that deeply concern her."

_I wish I could say this surprised me... _Squall remained calm in his demeanor regardless of how much he wanted to tear from the room and flee back to Garden, to his darkness where he could feel like himself again. "And…?"

Caraway narrowed his eyes briefly at the SeeD, the crows feet that splayed from their edges deepening ever so slightly, "She feels distant from you, or so she tells me. Is there something wrong? Something you would like to discuss? She's told me you aren't too open when it comes to your thoughts, but perhaps we can talk man to man on this issue."

Calm had temporarily left the building. Squall tightened his fists at his knees, beyond discomforted by the invitation. Never had he spoken of his troubles or his doubts about their relationship with anyone but a certain blonde Instructor; and that was only because she was in a coma. He'd be damned if he started spewing his thoughts to a man he could barely tolerate, let alone feel some sort of camaraderie that left him feeling privy to confide in the man, "Since this is on a personal level, I would like to say that since you have no direct involvement in our relationship, that it's none of your concern."

The General parted his lips to make a hasty counter, but was interrupted before he could form a syllable, "What goes on between Rinoa and I, or what doesn't, should be between us, and no one else. Not even her father." He stood to leave, returning his expression to that of stoic vacancy, "On a note of business, since we have wasted far too much time on this subject, our troops will vacate the city within the next several days. Good day, General." With that, he turned heel and left the office with the slam of the oak door, leaving a speechless father in his wake.

Squall was beyond frustrated. He was not accustomed to being placed in such an uncomfortable position. The Commander was a private person, which anyone in his presence for more than five minutes could figure out. Certainly over the years he had become considerably more open with his thoughts and feelings, but there were things he just didn't speak about-not even to his comrades. This parental figure was no exception.

His dark mood clouded his senses, forgetting that Rinoa was waiting in the den for the end of his conference. He was leaving in the mansion in a huff, and she could only guess as to the reason why.

"Squall, slow down," Heartilly made a breathy request as she reached out to touch his shoulder. The voice registered, and he stopped abruptly just before reaching the mansion gate. The Sorceress stumbled, taken off guard by his sudden desist. "Squall, what's wrong?"

Within those stormy grey-blue eyes laid a thick layer of irritation for the raven beauty before him. His anger was easily contained, and he wouldn't lash out at her. This, however, didn't save her from a proper scolding. "Why must you place our business out on the street like you do?" This obviously wasn't the only incident. He had been questioned occasionally by Zell, and even Selphie. Her father however, was more than he could handle.

She looked perplexed, her head tilting to the side as she regarded him with curiosity. "What are you talking about?"

The agitation was rising within him, and it was a struggle to keep it under control, "You've been talking about me to him."

Rinoa frowned now, "I told him how I felt, that I feel like I'm being ignored by you. I come to the Garden and stay in the visiting corridor to be with you. I don't even live on the Balamb Continent!"

"And you couldn't talk to me about this before you went to your father who would gladly have my head detached from my body if I hurt his little girl?"

The woman was bewildered by his piercing words. He'd never spoken this way to her before, and at the moment she couldn't find the words to express her disbelief. She wasn't a girl, but a woman. Did he still see her as a childish, immature girl, or was it just his anger taking charge?

Leonhart managed to reign in the remainder of his frustrations. While she was certainly part of the problem, fighting with her was not the way to solve anything, "Rinoa…I'm sorry. I'm under a lot of stress, all right?"

"It's not just stress. Maybe you just don't care for me anymore..." Rinoa's frown became more than just a pout-a truly sorrowful expression that was reserved for when she felt the sting of heartbreak.

Squall couldn't deny it wasn't just stress. He was concerned for Quistis. Weren't they all? And he did care. He cared a lot. Didn't he?

"Commander Leonhart!" a voice called from the distance, a man jogging toward the authority figure; he wore a SeeD uniform. Once he approached, he promptly saluted, "Sir, I have some news I would like to report."

Squall nodded to the SeeD, who fell at ease, "Is it about the terrorists? General Caraway has informed me the need for SeeD is no longer existent but if you have some information that can aid them, I'm certain it will be beneficial."

The SeeD shook his head, which received a curious gaze from Leonhart. "No, it's about Instructor Quistis…" he trailed off, glancing at Rinoa, who merely observed and listened quietly. She frowned when the young man whispered into his Commanders' ear.

Squall matched his girlfriends' expression as he pulled back to regard the SeeD in question. "Are you sure?" He nodded. "Not a word of this to anyone. Dismissed." The SeeD and Commander saluted one another before the lower of status vanished down the sidewalk.

He sighed, and sighed heavily. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He had too much on his heart and mind; and sleep seemed to be a distant dream.

"What about Quistis?" Rinoa inquired, placing a light hand to Squalls' arm.

He shrugged off the gesture and started down the sidewalk in the same direction as the retreating SeeD, "Nothing important."

She opened her mouth to call to him, but it was useless. It seemed their relationship was falling to pieces, and she didn't know why.

* * *

Twitch, turn, kick. Twitch, turn, kick.

This was a repetitive series of movements that disturbed Quistis Trepe during her attempt at sleep. She was bombarded by dreams, nightmares, guilt of consequences and fear. She fought with it, grappled with it, but in the end lost as she awoke with a start. The light from the morning sun peered through her window, washing over her make-up smeared face.

The previous night was behind her, and she still felt the bruising pain between her legs as she shifted to a sitting position. A careful hand grazed the tender flesh, and a flood of memories returned to her. There was still a far off place within the folds of her mind that ceased its screaming and simply wept, but the majority of her person seemed quite content with what had all transpired.

It had been a night that spilled into the black morning just before the rays of dawn had begun to light the city. Zale and Arbitor had nearly convinced her to return to their home and continue the party, but the alien substances and the realization of what had occurred allowed her to gain the courage to decline and head home. And when she arrived, the emptiness returned and the wonder of what's it's all for rebounded. What was here for her anyway? Teaching? Trepie's? Her _friends_?

She had new friends now.

And these friends were as fun as they were dangerous.

A smile crept on to her visage as she leaned back into her pillows and attempted to sleep once more.

Until an abrupt knock came to her door.

Quistis grumbled incoherently, shifting her garment-less figure from beneath the sheets. She uttered not a word, hoping whoever stood beyond would depart.

Another knock.

If only life were that easy.

"Go away!" the Instructor shouted impatiently, tossing an arm over her eyes as she lay on her back, scrunching her smudged eyes in a scowl.

"It's Squall," a voice spoke softly from behind the door.

The only one she couldn't say no to.

With a groan, she slid from the warm bed sheets to the cold floor, her toes curling with the temperature shift as she slipped a cotton white robe that barely reached her mid-thigh through her arms and tied the waist.

She opened the door with a smile reserved only for him.

He took one look at her and shifted his eyes away, "I can come back later..."

Quistis shook her head, finding herself leaning casually against the door frame, "If you don't say what you have to say now, I may not want to hear it later."

Squall seemed to have lost his voice, his arms folded at his chest as he looked off to the side, anywhere but her.

She heaved an exasperated sigh at this, "You woke me up," she lied, "I believe you're obligated to at least tell me the reason why you've come so early in the morning."

He gave a chuckle. Anyone else may have missed it, but Quistis knew everything that comprised Commander Leonhart, everything to what made him laugh to what infuriated him, "It's nearly twelve in the afternoon."

"Well then good afternoon. Why don't you come in?" The Instructor smirked as she moved aside for him to enter.

It took several moments for him to make his move, as if he was deliberating over something very carefully. He finally entered the room, and she shut the door behind him, "What's the emergency, Commander?"

He frowned a little. "You can call me by my name, you realize."

She smirked, "Very well, Squall."

There was silence for several seconds. Again, he was thinking, "Did you have a good time on your date?"

Is that what she told him? So much had happened, only bits and pieces of what she said and did before the nightclub were clear. She couldn't even remember who she'd said she went on a date with, or if she even mentioned a name at all. She grinned nonetheless, "I did. I had a wonderful time."

He nodded. "Has he changed at all?"

Quistis stared at him blankly. This had to be some sort of game he was playing with her. He knew something... "He's changed…a little. But, you know…" No, he didn't, because she didn't either.

There was another pause as the Instructors' gaze strayed away from the Commander. He on the other hand, finally looked her way, regarding her faintly, "I know where you _really_ were, Quistis."

A breath was caught in her throat. She was an Instructor, and it was crucial she kept up a respectable image. Being seen at a nightclub such as the UI would not go over well with anyone. The Instructor within her was simply mortified. "How…did you know?" The attempt to conceal the panic in her tone was futile.

Squall was still as a small frown creased his features, "A SeeD informed me this morning. He saw you entering, and didn't see you leave. We have people posted there to listen for any whispers of terrorist activity that might be beneficial to the General."

She glared down at her feet, shocked and ashamed she had no clue about the undercover assignment. Perhaps if she paid a bit more attention to her job at SeeD... "How did he know it was me?" It was a stupid question. She was careless. But most of her didn't care.

"Your former student," he answered dryly, sighing quietly. He seemed to be struggling with something, choosing his words very carefully, "He knows not to say anything."

Quistis snorted, staring firmly at her other former student, "So what are you going to do? Slap my hand and ban me to my room?" She knew it was a distinct possibility, and awaited judgment-not that she'd listen.

For a moment, and perhaps a moment only, his eyes softened, a glimmer of sadness rolled over his grey eyes like a storm, and was gone just as swiftly. The truth was he didn't know what to do. "Just...be careful…" Without leaving himself open for any further remarks, he left her room, shutting the door behind him.

She was left standing there, staring at the closed door and wondering why, despite the time she had the night before, she continued to feel so God damn miserable.

* * *

Rinoa couldn't take it any longer. Her heart was breaking and the cause was only a few halls away. What went wrong? Had they simply grown apart? Were they not so destined-to-be like everyone believed? And why not? She loved him. Loved him with everything she had, but apparently love wasn't quite enough. There was a wedge driving the two apart, in two different directions. Or perhaps, Squall was turning, and she was standing still. Maybe, just maybe if they tried to meet in the middle things would be all right. It would all be all right…

Tears streamed down her face as she thought this through, her hands mindlessly shoving her clothes into an open suitcase. There was no point in staying, subjecting herself to being tormented by the wounds of fading love. She'd simply have to move on and forget all about Squall Leonhart, the savior of the Second Sorceress War.

Of course, she was kidding herself. The heart did not easily forget, and did not easily let go. It would merely hold on tighter until there was a closure of some kind; closure of love and rejoicing, or closure that was brought by the acceptance that there simply was no happy ending.

How was closure an option when he wouldn't speak to her about it, when he was so distant? He was more concerned with SeeD matters than their relationship. And while she could certainly understood his prominent role and the necessity of his presence, she couldn't understand how he could so easily forget her existence.

The raven haired woman silently scolded herself, her fingers hastily wiping at her eyes, her pale cheeks streaked with moist, black mascara.

_You're overreacting. He has a lot going on, he needs time… _

Time. So much time. She wasn't sure she could hold out for much longer. The pain in her heart was exhausting, unbearable. The fallen angel had to be just a little bit stronger, for a little bit longer.

Heartilly snapped from her thoughts as the phones' ring blared momentarily jarring her from her melancholy. Taking in a deep breath, calming herself and praying her voice wouldn't tremble, she reached for the telephone beside the bed, placing the receiver to her ear, "Hello? Rinoa Heartilly speaking…"

"Oh darlin', so formal, is it really necessary?" A mild chuckle accompanied the smooth, charming baritone from the opposite end of the phone. It brought a small smile to her lips.

"Hey, Irvy," she greeted kindly, but the usual cheerfulness in her voice was gone.

Irvine obviously noticed. "Rinoa, hon, what's up? You ain't soundin' like yourself. Something you wanna tell me?"

Rinoa shook her head, though the gesture went unseen as she cuddled a fluffy pillow to her chest, "I better not. It's nothing big." What a lie.

There was a brief pause, "Rinoa…I may be one flirtatious son-of-a-bitch, but I'm not an idiot, and I can tell when I'm bein' lied to, over the phone or not. You know you can trust me, so let's hear it."

"It's about Squall…" she bit her lip, remembering what he had just scolded her for earlier.

"Ah…Squall doesn't seem to have his head on straight these days, Rin. I think patience might be the key, so he can sort through it everything. Or I could put a boot to his head-"

"No!" Rinoa exclaimed, almost with a giggle. She knew he wasn't serious, but the notion was simply unfathomable. "None of that. I'll just…I'll just give it that. Time. He deserves it, huh?"

A pause, "Sure he does darlin'. Mr. Commander sure got a lot of shit hangin' over his pretty little head. Just be there for him. Sound good?"

Rinoa smiled, a little weight being lifted from her chest, "Sounds great."

"Good! Now, for what I was gonna ask ya. How about we all, you, me, Zell, Selphie, Squall and Quisty get to lunchtime grubbing? That is, if we can puncture that doll Quistis' defenses. She sure has me worried…"

Heartilly sighed. She hadn't thought much over the woman since her own affairs seemed to slip selfishly in front of her mind. Seemed she was turning her back on everyone these days, ever since she woke from her coma. She couldn't still be traumatized, could she? She supposed that was another friend that would need time, this one to recover from something far more damaging. "Me too. But that sounds good…" she fell silent when she began to hear another familiar voice in the background. "Irvine, who's with you?"

Kinneas didn't answer immediately, but when he did the jovial tone was faded ever so slightly, "Selphie. She went to go ask Quistis and Squall about lunch. Uh, well…as far as Quisty goes, she ain't on premises."

"Really? Wonder where she is…" Rinoa thought out loud, cocking her head to the side as she gripped her pillow just a little bit tighter.

"Well, Seffie heard she took one of the cars."

"That's unusual." She commented quietly.

"Squall ain't around either."

Rinoa froze, "Huh?"

"…He took the Ragnarok. Said he had someone to see."

Her heart seemed to drop. She told herself it was business related, but her heart knew better...

* * *

"God dammit Raijin! Must you wave every fish you catch in my fuckin' face!?" Seifer Almasy bellowed from the edge of the pier he perched upon, a fishing pole resting in his hands as the line dangled from the metal stick. He gripped it so tight, his bulging knuckles were stark white.

Raijin twitched and cringed as his posse leader shouted his distaste at his victory. Well, it wasn't really a victory, it was just that Seifers' need to compete was never snuffed.

The outburst turned several heads, which were either passing them by, or cast their lines in remotely the same area. Feeling the eyes burn through his skin, Seifer theoretically shrunk several inches.

Fisherman's' Horizon was a peaceful environment, and had continued to be so after the threat of the world was exterminated. Almasy and his posse decided to leave Garden and their former dreams behind, and retreat to a tranquil life there, surrounded by friendly faces and the ocean blue. There was a sense of peaceful contentment that came with the territory, and the trio couldn't seem themselves leaving for a life of adventure.

The transition was difficult in the beginning, the former Knight's raging temper often spiraling out of control. But through the aid of meditation and an honest living as a repairman, he was able to relax and enjoy a life that was not dedicated to orders and bloodshed.

However, the occasional outbursts did tend to occur. And either with a scolding from the occupants of his new abode, or a simple, meaningful glare from an old lady that had no qualms about beating him over the head with her cane (Mrs. Pepperton still had a lot of fire in that eighty year old body), he was hushed and subdued.

"Dammit…" the former Knight whispered to no one in particular, but cast a glare at the friend sitting beside him.

The dark-skinned man flinched slightly, "Sorry Seifer. I just, caught a big one, ya know? You can have it, act like you caught it to impress Fujin, ya know?"

His eyes darkened, a faint breeze brushing back the bangs at his brows as he raised his hand to backhand the man, who motioned to high-tail it at the sign of violence. He was used to Fujin's consistent shin kicking, which even after so many years didn't cease, but when Seifer decided to use brute force, he was sure to be on the floor and twitching for days. That, and he usually knew better to insinuate the blond had a crush on the patch wearing albino. "You keep your God damn mouth shut!"

"Seifer Almasy still can't seem to grow up, I see."

Seifer and Raijin both halted all movement as a familiar voice gave them memories of way back when.

"Shouldn't expect much else from a lapdog."

Almasy snarled, but it wasn't quite a snarl of menace. It was perhaps even playful as his green eyes turned toward the keeper of the voice who drew closer to the duo, "I know that puberty-stricken squeal…"

Locking eyes with his former rival, the blond smiled mischievously as he shoved his fishing pole into his friends' hand, who accepted it with little hesitation. The air lacked the tension that would normally come with these two being present on the same continent, let alone the same pier. A lot of time had past, and some wounds do seem to heal.

Getting to his bare feet, he stood proud and still, adorned in a pair of long, khaki shorts and a black tank top that accented the defined muscles of his chest. His hair was noticeably longer, reaching only a few inches below his ears and pulled back into a raven band. The years had changed his appearance, as well as his heart.

"Come to get your ass kicked by your favorite adversary? I've got Hyperion nice and oiled just for you."

Squall gave the former Knight a nod of acknowledgment as he approached, "Not today. I didn't want to humiliate you in front of your friends."

Almasy snorted, rolling his eyes at the Commander, "Oh gee Mr. SeeD, I'm so God damn grateful that you would spare my feelings. Don't bother though, I don't need some faggoty twat lookin' out for my money maker. Speaking of, you seem over dressed for the climate. Thought that iced up heart of yours would keep the humidity at bay?"

"Cold heart or not, I'm a SeeD."

Seifer scoffed at him, "And what has SeeD done for you, exactly?"

Squall smirked as he crossed his arms at his chest, "It trained me to kick your ass."

"...Touche, though one against three ain't exactly fair odds."

Almasy let forth a hearty laugh, one that swelled from his belly. Even Squall found himself taken with amusement. Despite their past, the years and space between them had given them the time to heal and the time to forgive. Forgiveness, they realized, was a wonderful thing. They could both sleep better at night.

Raijin gave a kind wave toward the SeeD Commander, who nodded in kind. "Mind if we walk?"

Seifer regarded him with a look of curiosity, lifting a thin, golden brow in wonder, "You aren't going to get all queer on me and hold my hand, are you?"

Squall chose to ignore the quip, "I need your input on something."

The blond seemed to momentarily hesitate before moving from the pier to the inactive railway tracks, his brunette friend in tow. Barefoot he was, and had a thick skin that rivaled Tarzan's. "You need Seifer Almasy's input on something? I already told you Rinoa ain't into kinky shit. She's a woo _then_ do kind of girl. There's a reason why we didn't stay together. Prefer the doing to the wooing."

Squall's face fell slightly at the remark, but Almasy didn't seem to notice the change in expression, "So what's the deal? I ain't got all day."

How to begin was the difficult part of it all. Once he got past the beginning, everything would hopefully flow like it should. He breathed in, "You remember me telling you about Quistis, right?"

Seifer nodded, shoving his hands into his khaki pockets, "Yeah. Surprised she even woke up from that coma. Sounds like it was a massive tumble she took."

He nodded, brushing a hand through his chocolate brown hair. His chest seemed to tighten with the thought, causing him to pause. Before the man at his side could notice the discomfort, he calmed himself, and continued, "She's not the same. I thought giving her time and space was the answer, but I don't think that's going to help. The others have tried talking to her only to be shunned away. I…we don't know what to do, or how to handle it."

Seifer took a moment to deliberate on the facts before speaking, "You said the others. Is she shunning you?"

The Commander never really took the time to determine if she was keeping him at arms' length. It stared him in the face and he never saw it before now, "No."

He smirked, the infamous expression returning for only a few moments, "I've gotta say this is weird to have me playing psychologist and all. In fact, I should be telling you to fuck off right now. But I promised Matron I'd be nicer; that and being a dick all the time is exhausting. I'm trying to align my Chi...or something gay like that." He chuckled before continuing, "But do you think she's got a reason to be pissed at everyone?."

Their steps became very slow and deliberate as the SeeD searched his memories for some recollection that would make sense to the link between his friends' change in attitude and an event that caused the shift. Nothing immediately came to mind.

But then it appeared, tickling his brain with probing tentacles of recollection. Her eyes when she awoke...the hand in his as he watched the hazy slumber ebb from her eyes. There was a knowing flicker, a secret between them. A secret she would keep amongst many others he had laid before her. But there was also a deep pain that resided that was beyond something that was caused by the physical variety.

He suddenly wondered if she heard more than she was supposed to.

"It's a guess..."

"Anything is information at this point, Squall." Seifer retorted, his patience straining for an answer.

"We talked a lot in her room while she was under," he began, "some conversations were casual, others involved missions and personal affairs. But four months in and no change, Dr. Kadowaki asked what we thought about pulling her plug..."

This caused Almasy unconsciously scowl, "Don't tell me you pricks agreed to pull it?"

Leonhart nearly glared at the man, "She's not dead, now is she?"

Seifer chuckled, one not of amusement, but agitation, "No, but that doesn't mean anything. Sometimes when a person's plug is pulled, it forces them to wake up and live on their own, or die." He paused, and grinned, "So Commander, I guess you aren't as cold as I thought after all…"

For a time, grey-blue eyes met with intense green ones, both pairs narrowed at one another. The grey was trying to think, to understand the underlying meaning while the green attempted to give him that extra push.

And then it hit him.

"The lone voice in the room that told 'em all to fuck off and let the machine keep on beeping. Gee, how fuckin' romantic of you, puberty boy." The former Knight folded his sun-tanned arms over his broad chest as he regarded his friend for a time, waiting for a response to their revelation.

Squall brooded, and brooded for what seemed an eternity. He was beginning to understand Quistis' resentment toward her childhood friends, including Rinoa. "It's not that simple. There's more than the shunning and resentment now..."

"Oh?" Seifer was truly intrigued now.

"Have you heard of a nightclub in Deling called Underground Illusion?"

Almasy, for the first time since the old rivals' visit, stared at Leonhart in what could be translated to awe. "Don't tell me prim, proper, prude Quistis Trepe is going there? And based on the shunning, with no escort..."

Squall simply nodded.

He shook his head sadly, raking a hand through his sandy blond hair. "Well then... Every drug you can think of exists in the nightclub, every sex act, position, fetish, you name it, goes on in there. People die in there. I don't even want to know how the bodies are disposed on a regular basis… The worst of the worst go there, feeding on each other like fuckin' fungus or something. It's really disgusting. Sure, it was fun when I was like, eighteen with a fake I.D. and immature-"

"You're still immature," the SeeD added with a touch of humor.

Seifer glared, "Shut the fuck up, nobody asked you. Anyway, she shouldn't be there."

"No kidding." Squall averted his eyes to his boots, "Instead of telling me she was going there, she said she was going on a date with you."

"Well I'll be damned. The Instructor used me for an alibi. I guess I should be flattered. Can't say I'd mind having a hand or two on the tight ass. The fantasies of having her bent over that desk-"

"Seifer..." Squall warned, a flicker of something flashing in his irises.

Almasy looked at him inquisitively for a moment, and smirked mischievously, "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, _Commander?" _When he received no reply besides silence, he rolled his eyes, "Well you tell my beloved former Instructor that I am absolutely _heartbroken_ that she stood me up!"

Leonhart managed a small smile at that, "I think I will." His mood returned to it's somber state.

Almasy noticed the change and sighed, "Honestly, even if you stabbed her in the chest and ate her heart in front of her, she probably still wouldn't find the balls to tell you to go fuck yourself."

A brown eyebrow rose to this statement in question, "That's morbid. But what gives you that idea?"

"Sometimes you're so God damn stupid is makes me want to puke," Seifer scolded, keeping himself from slapping the man on the back of the head like he had Raijin so often. An odd feeling came over him every time he held a discussion with Squall that bared civility. The days of blades clashing, venomous glares exchanged had passed. A new era dawned. Though he doubted he'd be inviting him to Christmas dinner anytime soon, "I don't even have to be there to know she's still head over heels for you. It's a shame too, because she's wasting herself on something that's never gonna happen."

The Commander narrowed his eyes, shaking his head, his thoughts drifting to the evening in Trabia, their memories of their childhood coming to surface as well as Quistis' confession. He remembered how uncomfortable it made him feel, and how hard he tried to forget it, "No...she said it was a misunderstood love."

Seifer laughed, loud and thunderous. "Oh my _God_ Squall! And you believed her?! You really are an idiot!"

His reaction merely caused him to sigh. He knew better, but hoped that if he believed her, in time, she would believe it too. Though he had been proven emotionless and apathetic at one point, he truly didn't wish to hurt her. "No…I know, it's...it's easier to pretend." A frown of bitter frustration. His mind was so clouded in confusion, his vision was becoming blurred.

Almasy took note of this frustration and the laughter faded. "You came for my advice, right?"

Squall didn't answer.

"Here's my advice, anyway, so take it for what you will, choke on it, shove it up your ass, I don't fuckin' care." He breathed in, and a wave of earnestness washed over him, "She loves you, that we know. I think, if you really want to save her, stay close to her. Use her love for you against her."

Squall looked at him incredulously, "That's ridiculous."

"Shut up, Squall. Think about it. You're the only one at the moment, and as painful as this is for me to say it, the most logical, level-headed one out of the group that she'll listen and pay attention to." He tapped the side of Squalls' head, who flinched at the gesture, "Use your head, man. Sometimes, even with your friends, you have to be manipulative. You have to use their emotions against them that will in the long run, save them from being stupid. You have to make sure they don't fall. I would know…"

And suddenly, Squall smiled. "That is the most sense I've ever heard you make."

Seifer grinned cockily, replying sarcastically, "Yeah, well, don't tell anyone or I'll have to bust your balls."

"Fine with me, lapdog."

"Mr. lapdog to you!"

In the distance, Raijin shot to his feet, waving about a large Balamb fish upon Seifers' fish hook. "Oh MAN! That's the biggest one I've gotten, ya know!?"

Almasys' eyes flew wide with rage as he stomped down the railway, leaving an amused Leonhart in his wake. "That's MY FUCKIN' ROD YOU ASS! MY FISH, NOT YOURS!"

Some things never changed.

* * *

The stench was sharply poignant, filling her nostrils with the unusual scent. But the chemical was washing down the drain, which provided to be a minor relief. The change was...very striking. What was once honey blond now scarlet red. The Instructor didn't realize the transformation would have been so severe. Now there was no going back.

Twisting the water knobs to a far right, the spray of the shower head shut off, and out stepped Crimson.

Crimson was fighting to become a dominate fixture within Quistis' world, and she feared there simply wasn't enough room for the both of them. Crimson was a different attitude, different persona that Quistis didn't understand. But unfortunately, Crimson was more often than not, able to shut the Instructor up.

The loneliness was growing, but she couldn't reach out-Crimson wouldn't let her. Crimson was angry and resentful-she'd die before she reached out to them again.

The heat of the blow dryer was a soothing comfort to the chill that spread within her core. It would be a temporary relief, and she would crave it in the same way Crimson craved sexual attention, any kind of attention. This new vixen stepped into the spotlight and wouldn't be shoved behind the curtain without a fight.

Finishing with her hair, she slowly began to dress herself with a newly purchased outfit. Her previous attire was no longer suitable for this new personality, and it was imperative to look the part. And even though she may have been a hot commodity on the outside with her ruby sequined top and black mini, on the inside she felt like she was dying.

Pulling on the usual black boots, she took a final look.

Quistis felt sick.

A sudden rat-tat-tat upon her door had her wondering if she have a neon sign above saying 'Please knock all damn day'.

She opened the door with a jerk, and to her misfortune, a short, bubbly SeeD she knew all too well stood before her with the largest grin on her face anyone could muster.

Crimson felt sick, but for a different reason.

"Hey Quisty!" Before she could banish her to the bubbly bowels of hell from whence she came, the young woman continued without a breath, "I know you've already been out and I don't know where you went but I was wondering if you would like to go out with Rinoa and I please, please, _please _say you will!?"

Quistis glared dangerously, but unfortunately Selphie missed it completely, suddenly entranced by the new shade of color upon her head, "Quisty…I never imagined you with red hair, but it's pretty-"

The glare never faltered, "Number one, Ms. Tilmitt, I have work I must attend to. Number two, I wouldn't be caught dead within your company, or Rinoa's. Oh, not to mention Zell or Irvine as well, so make sure they don't bother trying to invite me to something I will simply decline."

The SeeD's usually happy go lucky disposition crashed and burned, replaced with grief and overwhelming sadness. She looked into the Instructors' eyes, searching for what once was, but may never be again, "Quisty-"

"And don't call me that," she all but snarled at the visitor, "I hate that pet name."

Tilmitt forced herself to choke back a sob. Quistis' fearsome cruelty was more than she ever expected to encounter. She had been prepared to be perhaps brushed off and ignored, but never endure such a hateful tone from one of her best friends. Realistically, she wondered if she could truly call her that any longer...

A part of her knew she shouldn't have pushed the issue, but all was lost regardless, and an extra effort wasn't about to destroy what was already broken, "What's happened to you, Quistis? You don't love us anymore? What did we do…maybe we can make it up to you…"

"You know what you can do," she sneered. "You can get out of my face. I'm not...I'm not going to be your fix it bitch anymore! I'm not..." she paused. There was so much more Crimson could have said, but it clenched tight and stalled on her tongue, "Just go."

Selphie stared in utter confusion. She didn't understand… "Quistis-!"

She wasn't allowed to finish. "Get out of my face, Selphie!" With that, the door slammed. She waited a few beats before hearing the click of boots retreating from her doorway.

While she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders, she also felt a feeling of dread settle in her stomach. Crimson and Quistis were at war.

_The darkness was a blanket, up to her neck and choking her. She couldn't leave it, frozen in the vast plain of nothingness. _

_'They don't want you anymore,' a voice whispered conspiratorially, twisting and dancing in the black. This was home to the voice, and it thrived here. 'You mean nothing to them.'_

_Quistis shook her head, forcing herself to disbelieve. They still loved her and they had to know she was in there somewhere. Her slumber was only temporary, not eternal. 'That's not true. They won't do it...they can't.'_

_'But they will little Quisty,' the voice argued, cutting into her thoughts like a razor, slashing down her defenses before she could bother to construct them, 'Little Quisty is sleeping, and there is no use for her. No one to fix their problems, little Ms. fix-it-all Quisty is quiet, and can't fix anything anymore. And no one will fix her...'_

_Hands to her ears, pushing away the dreadful murmur of an entity unknown, 'No, stop talking! You don't know anything!'_

_'I know everything little Quisty. I am you, and you are me. But I am honest, and you are in denial. They don't need you, so now they destroy you.'_

_"Give her more time."_

_A spark of light shined brightly and the voice screamed in bitter agony. Quistis beamed, a flutter in her heart. _

_Hope. _

_'There is someone.'_

_'One! Only him! The rest would see your life snuffed and buried six feet. Do not let them back...they will only hurt us.'_

_Quistis paused, the blanket returning to its former potency, squeezing until she forced breath through gasps, 'Don't hurt us...'_

_'Yes...' the voice hissed, it's malevolent timbre sending shivers through her, 'Don't let them hurt us...'_

_And when she awoke, she wouldn't._

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts and calm her nerves, she left her room several minutes after Selphie's retreat, shutting and locking the door behind her. She wasn't lying when she said she had work. Despite Crimsons' appearance in her life, certain duties had to be completed before playtime could resume.

Just as expected, several eyes caught her figure as she sashayed down the familiar circular hallway toward the elevator. What was being said amongst SeeD's and students alike she couldn't be certain, but it no doubt had to do with her change. She was used to the stares, the ones that burned holes in her skin. But these seemed to set her skin aflame, the intensity so discomforting.

Slipping past a small crowd of students gathered at the elevator, she recognized a couple as dedicated Trepie's, who were between being astonished and disappointed upon recognizing her. They could feel the change in the air as she passed, that there was something different about their beloved idol that was simply unlikable.

She gave the group a wink before ascending, leaving them to chatter about the latest development.

Due to the weekend, the hallways to the classrooms were mostly empty, and any intelligent cadet would be training or resting for the field exam that was soon to come.

She entered her assigned classroom with a loud, exhaled breath. Grading papers. This was the aspect of being a teacher she most despised, but necessary if she cared to keep her license.

At times she wondered why she bothered.

An hour had gone by and there was barely a dent to the stack. The tip of her pencil drummed against the wooden mahogany of her large desk as she stared at the tests with her thin-rimmed glasses placed on the bridge of her nose. An arduous task indeed…

It was her fault. After all, her concentration wasn't solely on the task at hand. It centered on the night before, the nights to come, and a certain someone that never fled from her thoughts, no matter who else or what else she was thinking of at the time. He was always there...

"Ahem."

Startled, Quistis flinched at the sound of the voice, her pencil flying from her fingers and clear across the room, "Squall…" his name fell from her lips like a prayer before she could catch it. Once her heart began to beat with it's usual rhythm, she looked up at the man who slipped into her classroom without a sound, the door shut behind him. "You could have knocked."

"I did," the Commander stated simply. "And before you ask, a few SeeD cadets informed me on your whereabouts. You made quite an impression with everyone this evening."

She grinned internally, but wore a mask of indifference, "So I see." She leaned back in her chair, her posture straight and regal, "Are you here to give me a proper lecture on my behavior?"

Squall shook his head, moving to sit on the edge of her desk. For several moments he simply stared, studying her, "Your hair...it's an interesting change."

Quistis smiled, a genuine smile as she placed her hands to her lap, "Squall Leonhart, I believe that is the closest to a compliment you have ever given me in years."

He shrugged, "I believe it was due." His tone became serious, "Are you going to Underground Illusion, tonight?"

She was silent for a time, contemplating. There was no telling what he planned to do or say about it, or what lengths he'd take to keep her from leaving. "Yes, why? Feeling overprotective? I can handle myself."

_The sound pierced her ears as she felt her body fly. Fly through the air and come tumbling for what seemed an eternity until she heard a crack and the world fell away..._

Quistis blinked away the memory, finding that her hands began to fumble with the hem of her skirt.

Squall watched her intently, the way her fingers danced along her garment without a purpose, "I know you can." He paused, looking away from her to the floor, "I would like to go with you."

"What?" It was clear she was astonished by his statement.

"Now if you don't want my company…"

"No!" Quistis exclaimed a little too quickly, "that's not it. I'm just surprised that…well, that you'd go."

Squall smirked, catching a few strands of crimson hair between his fingers, "You went, and you seem to be in one piece." He released the tresses, "Do you want me there or not?"

Trepe was rendered motionless as he touched her hair in what could have been mistaken for affection if she didn't know any better, "…Yes."

He rose to stand. "Meet me in the Parking Lot at eleven. If you aren't there, I'll leave you here." A flash of mischief glinted in his eyes as he reached the door. "Oh, and by the way-Seifer says hello, and is disappointed you stood him up for your date last night."

Quistis stared at his retreating figure, her mind reeling, and stomach doing back flips. What just happened there?

She suddenly laughed. And laughed hard. On a date with Seifer...

Not in a million years.

* * *

Squall stood just outside of her door and exhaled the tension from his lungs. Use her love against her...to do so should have felt strained.

So why was he looking forward to it?

With the weight of the world on his shoulders, a knot in his gut and an anvil on his heart, he left the classroom behind, pondering what the hell he just got himself into.


	4. Something New

A/N: You wanted more? Here it is. HERE IT IS! And in response to Dark Phoenix's review, she didn't 'lose it' solely because of the drugs. Her little traumatic incident was to blame as well, along with her hatred toward certain people. She's at war with herself. Anyway, on with the story! Special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review. It's a great inspiration and I'm immensely grateful.  
  
Disclaimer: These beautiful characters do not belong to me, but if they did, I would give Seifer a night he'd NEVER forget. Oh, and the song lyrics used aren't mine either. If they were, I'd be rich. And I'm not. So there. Oh, and I got the names from the song "Crimson and Clover". Cool song. Listen to it sometime. : )  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Disastrous Behavior   
  
Part 4  
  
*~~~*  
  
"Things aren't quite the same without you. I truly didn't think there would be such a large void once you disappeared. Of course, you didn't really disappear. You're here still. I'm holding your hand, feeling your cold…"  
  
He trailed off, but forced a light smile lest she happened to catch a glimmer of his expression, even in her soundless, seemingly eternal slumber.  
  
"I saw Seifer today. He's changed so much since I last caught sight of him. He's more…tranquil, calm in his demeanor. I saw him in Balamb briefly. For some reason, neither of us really felt the need to compete, to fight or argue. We spoke to one another with courtesy that never existed."  
  
He smiled genuinely now.  
  
"I suppose, we both grew up, and learned a valuable lesson. We can even speak about the past without fire scorching our tongues."  
  
A sigh…  
  
"I miss you. More than I thought I would. You've been my stability through my times of confusion, times of self-doubt, even though you haven't said a word to me as I poured my heart to you. It's been so easy. Maybe because I know you won't say anything, even if you can hear what I tell you. I've told you everything. You're the only one who will know everything. Although, no matter how much I needed your stability as well as your silent, lifeless comfort, I wish you'd wake up. Even though I may never tell you any of this or anything more ever again, your life would mean more to us, more to me than anything else."  
  
*~~~*  
  
What to wear? What to wear?  
  
Crimson nearly tore her new wardrobe apart in search for an outfit. No, not just any outfit, one that would even catch Squall's loyally trained eye; the eye that saw Rinoa and only Rinoa in her feminine, girlish glory.  
  
Or at least, that's what she continued to believe.  
  
Her fingers gripped the latest in gothic fashion that was the raging style only seventy years earlier-the boned corset. This garment was adorned with a more dark and sinister touch. It was constricting, supportive, and oh so devilishly sexy to the male species.   
  
She tossed it clear across the room. There was no way she was going to be able to lace the damn thing by herself.  
  
And so she settled for a raven artificial snake skin tube top, sheer black stockings with a matching skirt that reached the mid, toned thigh. The leather bound straps at either side hugged her waist almost uncomfortably as she bent down to zip the sides of her velvet high-heeled boots. If this didn't capture his attention, the Commander certainly wasn't a man. One had to wonder if he had the same needs and satisfactions as one of his gender did. If it were so, he hid it oh so expertly. It was commendable…  
  
…but no fun at all. It was just a minor dilemma that could be dealt with, with some careful plotting and consideration.  
  
'Stop it, Crimson. This isn't his "scene", his way of life and it's wrong to force it upon him, and you know it.'  
  
"Oh shut up," she demanded out loud. The demand startled her, causing her to close her eyes and ignore the protesting voice in her head. Instead of concentrating on the disapproving banter, she sauntered over to her bathroom mirror. Pulling a blue brush from the drawer at her hip, she ran the bristles through her rosy hair a few times before setting it aside, staring at her visage. It was a woman. A woman only vaguely familiar…  
  
Ignoring the rising dread inside, she wrapped her black band high around her hair once, twice, thrice until it was tight and steady. Nothing was going to keep her from enjoying this night, not even her own reflection.  
  
Fleeing from the bathroom, she grabbed her black duster and pulled it onto her shoulders just before snatching her purse that hung from the post of her small desk chair as she stormed toward the door, slamming it in a huff.  
  
One minute to get to the Parking Lot.  
  
He was kidding when he said he'd leave her, wasn't he? Of course, a mere jest from the Commander. Not totally uncommon. Worrying was one of Quistis' strong suits, but non-existent in the one called Crimson. Quistis would just have to keep her opinions to herself.  
  
Not a being in sight. It was late after all. Those of the Garden were either training or on a mission. It was rare these halls would be swarming with personnel-it was a base, not a hangout.  
  
Sucking in a deep breath, she approached the dim Parking Lot in haste, briskly walking through the wide doorway, her eyes searching for her date.  
  
Date…not quite the accurate term, but it would suffice.  
  
When she did not catch sight of him, she smirked. So, she had beaten him there after all.  
  
"A minute late, Ms. Trepe."  
  
For the second time that evening, Quistis was caught completely off guard, her body violently shaking with the evidence. Her attention shot through the darkness as a male clad in black pushed himself from a golden vehicle. His attire was…quite the change from the usual. She had no idea he owned such clothing-long-sleeved fishnet shirt to the base of his neck, loose fitting black pants adorned with various zippers and buckles. The belt at his waist was a larger version of the twin red belts crossed as his pelvis. This belt was also black. He held a not so familiar, and rather plain looking leather jacket over his shoulder, a key in the other.  
  
"Squall…" She was speechless, and did all she could to keep from drooling like a mesmerized fan-girl. There weren't words to describe the honest, positive surprise in his appearance.  
  
In the darkness, he wore an expression of indifference, his silky bangs brushing against his eyelashes as he addressed her with kindness. "Interesting outfit."  
  
Crimson couldn't help but laugh, drawing nearer to the stock still SeeD, "Now that is the second compliment, and the second time you have startled me today. Should I await a third?"  
  
He shrugged, reaching behind him to open the driver side car door, "Wouldn't hurt. Now let's go."  
  
No deliberation was in order for her to respond to the comment as she moved around the vehicle to slip into the passenger seat.   
  
Neither could think of the last time they were in a car together, in such a close proximity. It was almost uncomfortable for both parties, but neither allowed the other to notice the discomfort.  
  
The silence that passed between them was twice as discomforting.  
  
So someone needed to break it.  
  
"When we get in there, my name isn't Quistis."  
  
Squall lifted a brow, but never removed his eyes from the road. "I see. What do they call you? What am I to call you?"  
  
"Crimson," she stated with a satisfied smirk.  
  
This caused Leonhart to quietly chuckle, mindlessly tapping his fingers upon the steering wheel, speaking with mild distaste. "That explains the hair."  
  
It caused Trepe to frown, "You said you thought it was interesting, earlier."  
  
He nodded to confirm the statement. "I did. And I meant it."  
  
"Squall, why is it you came out with me, to this place of all places?" she questioned curiously, but a firm authority lingered within in her tone. He wasn't one to spontaneously go out to some nightclub. There was a reason behind it all that she couldn't put her finger on.  
  
Squall, however, wasn't one to crack under pressure. With a shrug of his shoulders, he eased into a parking space a block from the club itself. Once he put the vehicle into park, he ejected the seatbelt from its buckle and turned to face her. "Because I felt like it." With that, he slipped on his leather jacket and exited the car, closing it with mild force.  
  
Crimson deliberately took her time to depart from the vehicle as Squall patiently waited for her to come to his side. Tugging down her skirt and smoothing back her hair, she gave the dark haired male a flirtatious smile as she strode to his side. He did not respond, but his wandering eyes let her know he definitely noticed her greater assets.  
  
So maybe he was a man after all…  
  
They walked in silence, but the journey wasn't too long. From a distance, the male partner of the duo took one look at the ridiculously long line and rolled his eyes, motioning to turn back around if Quistis' hadn't caught him by the arm, "I've changed my mind. I am not waiting in the horde."  
  
The redhead stood her ground, never loosening her grip upon his limb. "No, wait! I can get us in." She recognized the bouncer. The same man whom she showed her SeeD I.D. to and nearly had a coronary. "Just trust me on this, and follow me." Taking a risk in letting him go, she began her journey toward the bouncer who appeared to be having a fine time checking I.D.'s. This night, he wasn't a solitary figure at the door-two others accompanied him in his task.  
  
She was beginning to think it was she who begged Squall to attend.  
  
Approaching the blond creature, she smiled sweetly at him who regarded her with mild indifference, although a hidden lust did loiter within his eyes, "Excuse me, I'm not certain if you remember me…" Fishing out her I.D. as Squall came up behind her, watching this action be performed as he took his famous stance-a hand to his hips as he swayed them to the side, a brooding expression upon his visage as he gazed off to the side.   
  
Pulling a card from her small, compact purse, she flashed it to the bouncer who snatched it impatiently, studied it as well as her, and gazed at her knowingly as she handed the card back. "You may go on in, Ms. Trepe."  
  
Smiling gently, she moved past the trio of bouncers, ignoring the disappointed and impatient banter of those still within the line, but not before beckoning to Squall. Noticing the gesture, he moved to proceed, but was stopped rather abruptly with a hand to his chest. "Not so fast, boy. Back to the line."  
  
"No, he's with me." Crimson chimed in quickly as she watched Leonharts' expression turn to one of mild aggravation. A pause ensued before the hand retreated, and the SeeD continued on his way, following the Garden Instructor inside.  
  
At once, the blaring reverberation of techno-music assaulted his ears. He should have been used to this, being in the path of bellowing gunfire for a number of years now, but this was a new sound altogether, one that would take some getting used to.  
  
The club was ludicrously packed with bodies he noticed, and little room to breath, let alone move. But somehow Crimson found her way through, holding to Squalls' hand lest she lose him. This contact he allowed, though didn't respond hastily to return the grip until someone nameless pounded him in his chest, nearly tearing him away from his friend. He held firm, and wasn't about to release.  
  
The smoke, the booze, all of these scents invaded his senses at once without a moment to break. His eyes narrowed, but softened just a little when he caught sight of Trepe looking back to gaze at his frustrated figure, and flashed a reassuring smile. Why was he here? Because of her…and he was almost positive he'd regret it in the morning.  
  
There were several around, but one seemed to bare some significance. He vaguely, just barely remembered this dark, spiky-haired male pushing through the crowds toward the duo. Quistis released his hand, but stood close to him, close enough to hear his steady breathing over the music. As the figure came to approach, he was about to utter a name as he stared directly at the Commander, but was interrupted as Crimson wrapped her arms around the lanky man. "Arbitor! I told you I'd be back," She nearly shouted, bringing her lips close to his ear as he returned the embrace enthusiastically. However, she did not release, not until something was stated at once, "That is Squall," she half whispered, half shouted to be heard over the incessant beat, "but not tonight."  
  
Arbitor nodded, understanding perfectly. Quistis didn't want to be known by her real name, which meant Squall wished for the same. He grinned giving a kiss to her neck as Squall watched this unfold with slight discomfort. "Babe, your hair! I love the change!" He pulled back to admire the new do. "Come, come, and show the others. You too, sexy," he winked toward Squall as he grabbed Crimson by her slender hand and pulled her off. She followed without hesitation, Squall close to the pair as he let the 'compliment' given fly through one ear and out of the other, now studying the back of the other mans' head. There was something so familiar about him, like he knew him, or at least knew of him. He couldn't figure it out, and laid it to rest, blaming the Guardian Forces for his memory deficiency.  
  
The area Arbitor and his not so familiar friends to Squall came into view. He couldn't help but internally chuckle at the décor of the sofas. An interesting place this certainly was.  
  
Zale looked up from his bottle of beer to the redhead. He frowned a moment, only to beam the next as he shot up from his seat upon the pleather couch to affectionately tackle Crimson into the cushions beside a pair of quiet females, "Crimson, darling!" He exclaimed dramatically, nuzzling his lips into the crook of her neck as she laughed helplessly.  
  
Leonhart couldn't help but roll his eyes at the display of childishness, letting his eyes wander, until he heard a question in which he assumed was about him.  
  
"Oh my Hyne! Who on EARTH is the gorgeous bloke, Arbi?" asked a dark-skinned female with shoulder-length brown hair who sat at the arm of the sofa, another, pale females' head resting in her lap.   
  
Crimson struggled to free herself from being underneath Zales' weight, getting to her feet to rush to her friends side, "He's a friend of mine."  
  
The female glanced at her briefly with no interest, her focus still at the SeeD as she ran her delicate fingers through her 'toys'' bleach-blond hair. "What is your name, Crimsons' friend?"  
  
This was something they hadn't talked about. A name. What was his name? He couldn't use his real name. He was the Commander of Garden…being here could tarnish his image if it got to the wrong person. A song popped into mind, "…..Clover."  
  
Quistis lifted a brow as she looked to him, only to see him shrug.  
  
"Well I'm Bethany, Clover," the dark-skinned woman introduced herself, her tone deep with alluring affection. "This lazy girl here is Tiny-Tina." She gestured to pale thing at her side, her eyes nearly closed, but clearly green. She was definitely on something.  
  
"A pleasure," Clover lied in reply.  
  
Arbi took this exchange to take his place beside his beau, wrapping a protective arm around him, but not before he gave Squall a seductive glance, licking his lips in a sexually teasing notion. The Commander might have cringed if he actually cared.  
  
The one known as Tiny-Tina rose a slender, and almost sick looking arm in Clovers' direction and gestured him toward the open space beside she and Arbitor. He then noticed the track marks… "Sit down beside me, beautiful boy…"  
  
Squall grunted inaudibly as he rolled his eyes, glancing to Quistis who smirked in return. 'Why did I come here again?' He questioned himself, his mental tone full of vexation, 'Oh, I remember. To keep an eye on this crazy woman. Damn the female species.' With a sigh, his thoughts discontinued and his head shook in negation. "I'm fine with standing."  
  
Arbitor couldn't help but seize the moment to speak, "You won't be standing for long. In a place like this you either end up sitting, dancing, on your knees--"  
  
Clover immediately cut him off as he motioned toward the sofa begrudgingly and sat down stiffly between the drugged teenager and the overly flirtatious homosexual ex-SeeD. "I get the point…"  
  
A figure stormed through the crowd, panting heavily, perspiration running down his face. Instead of looking distressed like one would image, he was completely exultant. Culdin reached for an open beer bottle and took a swig. He gave the similar crowd a glance just before taking off again, but not before noticing the sexy redhead by his side. "Crimson! Come on and dance with me."  
  
Without a moment to protest, she was taken by the wrist and led through the throng of dancers, casting a gaze toward Squall who looked uncomfortable and totally out of place. She almost felt bad, but it was his idea, HE offered…  
  
It seemed the Commander was stuck. That was just fine. He'd sit here, all night, and not move. Not speak. He was good at that.  
  
"Want a hit?" Next thing the poor, high-ranking SeeD realized, a lit joint was flashed in front of his face held by a grinning Arbitor whose own face was dangerously close to his.  
  
"Get that disgusting thing out of my face…Arbi." Squall scowled dangerously, speaking in a patronizing tone as he attempted to sink back further into the cushions. He appeared to have a large and vile distaste toward blunts.   
  
Arbi was a little taken back by his firm statement, and retracted the drug from him completely, passing it over to his beau, "You need to loosen up…" his lips traveled to his ear and whispered a single, solitary name that nearly had the poor Commander on his feet and storming from the club, "…Squall."  
  
His lips parted to retort, but the gothic druggie wouldn't allow it, "Oh Squall, I know who you are. It's a shame you don't remember me. I had the biggest crush on you in school…" His hand nearly latched to Leonharts' thigh, but thought better of it. Didn't want to scare him too badly.  
  
Frowning with great menace to his features, the Commander leaned forward out of earshot to grab a bottle of beer from the tin bucket, several sloshing about through ice and its melted components. Popping off the cap, he downed a gulp, keeping his grey-blue eyes forward, and out of Arbitors' view. He knew him. But still, his face, his voice wasn't clicking. Obviously he was from Balamb, meaning he transferred elsewhere where he was a SeeD, or was one no longer. He was willing to bet his entire salary on the latter.  
  
He didn't care. Not at all. In fact, he wanted to ignore everything around him, drown it all out and focus on his thoughts.  
  
Little did Squall know, Arbi wasn't at all deterred from his task. He produced a small pill from his pocket and presented it to the reluctant SeeD by his side. This loosened Quistis up...surely it would do wonders for the Commander as well. "Do you know what this is, Clover?"  
  
He took one look at it and lifted a brow, his face contorting into one of abhorrence. "It's something I don't want, so you can keep it."  
  
The poor Goth was becoming a tad bit irked. Very few held the strength to resist his persistence. Squall seemed to be a special case.  
  
The beau at his side was becoming curious and a bit jealous, all attention pulled from him and placed upon this stranger to the group. He didn't fear however, for he knew who he was going home with that night…  
  
Arbitor closed his fingers over the tablet and nodded, smiling kindly. A glance was exchanged between himself and Tiny, who had been watching and listening closely to the entire exchange. When she nodded, he smiled confidently, placing his gaze to the dance floor for a time.  
  
The light haired female, though in her weak and drug ridden state, reached her hand to grip Squalls' chin and turn his face her way. The frown never lifted from his visage even as he gazed down at this pathetic looking specimen of a human being.  
  
"You are so handsome…" the female drawled out, tracing a disgustingly thin finger down his cheek. He regarded her most unkindly, but remained still during this moment of admiration.  
  
What he wasn't aware of was what was being placed in his bottle of alcohol by a certain ex-SeeD…  
  
"Why don't you come home with me and Beth?" she smiled deviously this time. "We'll have lots of-"  
  
"I'll pass." Squall tore away from her stare. He would have scooted away, if he wouldn't be scooting closer toward even more unpleasant territory. He had a right mind to leave this horrid facility while dragging 'Crimson' by the hair and tossing her in the trunk as he sped off toward Balamb. Yeah, he'd definitely lock her in her dorm room now.   
  
But he didn't. He just sat there, and drained the remainder of his alcohol…  
  
Something tapped the back of his tongue, something odd and strangely round. Motioning to cough it out, he leaned forward, the many muscles in his throat tightening to keep the foreign object from traveling down his pipes. The attempt was a little too late-whatever it was, he swallowed it successfully. A glare invaded his visage, one of pure hatred and disgust, having a sinking feeling of what this 'thing' was.   
  
Slowly, his glare turned to the grinning Arbi at his side, who rose his own bottle to the air, "Cheers, Clover…"  
  
As tempted as he was strangle the man, or even more tempted to leave, retrieve his gunblade, and return to behead the male, he stood to his feet in a haste and walked off without a word. It was time to find Quistis. It was time to go, and he was willing to hear absolutely no objections.  
  
Arbitor frowned from his position, locking his eyes to his beverage as his bloke nudged his ribs with furrowed brows. "You realize, that was totally the wrong approach."  
  
"No. Shit."   
  
- - -  
  
Squalls' attempt at finding Quistis upon the first floor level was useless. There were too many bodies, packed together almost like sardines. It was rather ridiculous. His skill in observation, courtesy of SeeD, came in handy. Above, he noticed a second floor. It was built like a balcony around the inside of the club, a bar at both sides, and several more couches along the smudged walls. It wasn't nearly as compact as the first floor.  
  
Maneuvering himself through the assembly of dancers, he climbed the staircase, his gloved hand reaching to grab the rail to steady him. The Commander felt a little dizzy, his heart beating at a gradually increasing rate. Arbitor was fortunate Squall had some self control, or he'd be dead. Literally. The pill however was the last thing on his mind, although he was fairly sure he knew what it was. Its effects however, he wasn't one-hundred percent certain. Whatever they were, he had a feeling he was experiencing them now.   
  
Reaching the top, he slid his hand down the rail as he walked past several groups and couples. He received several glances as he passed, but nothing he couldn't handle-nothing he really paid too much attention to. He was looking for someone in particular, someone that wasn't coming into view just yet and he wasn't about to let their piercing stares get the best of him.  
  
The drug was working its' magic, a tingling sensation spreading over his skin, crawling and teasing him. A gentle breeze seemed to send a shiver or two up his spine. Sensing the change, he gripped tightly to the railing with both hands, attempting to shake off the sensation. Maybe if he just stilled himself, everything would wash away, and this feeling of…excitement would vanish.  
  
And as if an invisible force drew his sight to the swaying, redhead beauty, Squall locked his sight to the familiar female, and gaped. Even from such a distance, he could make out her every feature. Her scarlet hair was free from the confinement of the band, splayed over her neck and cheeks, brushing against her back and breasts as her body flowed with the booming techno beat. These eyes couldn't tear themselves away.  
  
So he found her. Now what? He was afraid to move, his heart pounding in his chest. But what he couldn't figure out was, was it the drug, or something else he himself couldn't quite explain. After all, the beat did seem to intensify when he set his eyes upon her…  
  
'This just isn't right…it's got to be wrong somehow.' But the Commander couldn't thoroughly convince himself of this. He forced his eyes away, only to be drawn to the sight once more. Her pale skin glistened with a thin layer of perspiration, her fingers combing through her wild, untamed tresses, fingers gliding down her sides, over her hips…sensual and alluring hypnotic dance. Squall couldn't bring himself not admit this fact.  
  
So he was a man after all…  
  
Their eyes locked. She must have felt the piercing gaze of Clover from afar. A grin brushed over her lips as she extended an arm in his direction, beckoning to him with a finger. It just couldn't have been any fun for him to be the silent observer. It was time for him to get involved.  
  
Involving him in her escapades would be a little more difficult than perceived. Quistis should have known better. With the shake of his head, he quietly protested, but his grey orbs never left her erotic figure. To see her in this light was just…wrong. So wrong…  
  
But never more right.  
  
Crimson was determined, refusing to take his no for an answer. Forcing herself through the crowd, she made her way for the staircase, ignoring the multiple caresses of hands that wouldn't keep to themselves. Squall observed these acts, and growled internally with displeasure, but his expression stayed the same-confused.  
  
Confused, and to the extreme. These feelings were awkward and so intense he barely had a handle over his self-control. But Squall was a strong-willed individual. Drug or no drug, he would fight the fomenting need of pleasure. He would, perhaps, be less perplexed of his current condition if he believed he would be satisfied by anyone, or anything. That didn't seem to be the case, and it almost scared him.  
  
She finally approached, an arm hooking around his waist as a hand rested upon his chest. Good Hyne did that feel good, and yet, so lewd. "Dance with me, Squall…"  
  
Again, the protest, but not quite as firm as before. His clothes were suddenly becoming that much tighter… "I can't dance to this."   
  
Quistis smirked, moving the hand upon his chest to his wrist, "It's not even really dancing. Just…moving. Now come on."  
  
No more protesting. It was useless. He couldn't bring himself to say no anymore. As she walked and tugged, he followed, his confidence wavering, his posture stiff as he moved down the steps with the Instructor. Never had he imagined he'd find himself in this position, with her no doubt. It was something so out of character for the both of them.  
  
His heart…he felt like it was going to burst from his chest. His senses were clouded, his mind on only one thing…  
  
The song was familiar. He recognized the beat. He recognized the words.  
  
A set of hands were placed upon his shoulders, sending rifts of elation through his veins, throwing his mind and good judgment into disarray.  
  
'You let me violate you…   
  
You let me desecrate you…'  
  
His continued to stand rigid, stiff, and appeared completely out of place. The pair of bare, pale hands glided over his chest, down his torso and around to his back. A body, tall and slender curved and grinded into his own. He was losing control, and found himself flowing with the beat, his muscles slowly loosening as he locked eyes with familiar blue.  
  
'You let me penetrate you…   
  
You let me complicate you…'  
  
The sigh that escaped full, feminine lips was inaudible, lost in the vibrations of the musical tempo, but it was one of the utmost pleasurable excitements. The red-haired woman turned her back to her dark-haired partner, swaying her hips to the beat, partner matching with her movements as gloved hands came upon her waist, fingertips kneading into her hips, pressing with need. Their control was slipping. One was willing to let go, while the other was a little more reluctant.  
  
'Help me,  
  
I broke apart my insides,  
  
Help me,  
  
I've got no soul to sell,  
  
Help me,  
  
The only thing that works for me,   
  
Help me get away from myself,  
  
I want to fuck you like an animal…'  
  
She turned to face her partner, fingers dared to travel beneath the fishnet shirt, willing to take any repercussions given. None were distributed, only a lustful growl, unheard by anyone except the one who emitted the sound. His eyes closed, relishing in her gentle, exotic touch. He didn't want it to stop, the drug in his system magnifying the sensation, his mind clouded in lust. Lust, lust, lust…  
  
However, his better judgment was beginning to kick in, his hands reaching to caress her cheeks, reaching to grab her hair, "Quistis…" reaching endlessly…before retracting them, and pulling away completely. "I can't…" these words were mouthed by the confused male just before he turned tail and briskly shot through the crowd, away, leaving behind a hurt, and guilty Quistis Trepe behind.  
  
- - -  
  
Clover exploded through the door beside the entrance, turning the corner and allowing the shadow of the building to envelop his form in full. He was hot, his skin on fire as he nearly tore his jacket from his arms, casting it carelessly to his feet. The cool, night air touched his exposed flesh, the feeling greatly appreciated. It was too much. The drug, the music, her…it overloaded every sense he wielded. What was wrong with him? It was that damn pill. He knew it.  
  
No, he didn't. In fact, he couldn't force himself to believe it was all the tablets' fault. Was the pill just opening the door to something long forgotten? His hormones were raging, at its' peak, but the only one he saw, the only one he could focus on was her. Why?  
  
Perhaps her erotic stature, her alluring sensuality, her familiarity drew him to her. It was just lust, wasn't it? A lust he couldn't control, he couldn't stop thinking about. These thoughts of bedding her, taking her completely filled his head, refusing to vanish. His breathing was shallow, his heart continuing to pound faster and faster inside his chest.  
  
The need was so strong and couldn't be ignored. Had he forgotten the reason why he was there? It didn't seem to matter anymore. He knew what he wanted, but fought with himself from obtaining it. After all, there were others that would be hurt by his actions if he wasn't too careful. He just, needed to go. Avoid eye contact, block out her voice, her scent and just leave with her in tow back to Garden and everything would be well.  
  
Instead of moving inside to find her yet again, he leaned against the cold, brown bricked outer wall of the nightclub, his eyes downcast as he sighed. Before he did anything else, he had to collect himself, regaining his composure, and not allow himself to slip up no matter how tempting he found her…  
  
Boy had she changed more than he realized.  
  
Perhaps what frightened him the most was something struck similar about their earlier conversation. A certain relationship with a certain brunette began with a vaguely similar situation. What caused him to compare the two?   
  
"Squall?" Speak of the devil… Her voice resounded in his head, his ears seemingly causing the sound to echo endlessly. His expression was blank as she turned the corner, searching desperately for her comrade.  
  
She noticed the change in him, the tempo of his heart rate…his eyes. He took E. Squall would have normally never reacted to her as he had. The guilt rode upon her shoulders because she knew, and took advantage of his condition. Though Crimson felt blameless, Quistis felt immense remorse for her actions. An apology was in order.  
  
"Over here." A voice sounded from the darkness. Quistis moved her scarlet hair from her eyes and behind her ears to catch sight of the lone figure in the shadows. His arms hung loosely at his sides as his eyes avoided everything but the ground below. It appeared he was having a difficult time dealing with his overwhelming senses.   
  
She edged closer until she stood before him, searching her mind for what to say. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable…"  
  
That voice flooded him. He bit his bottom lip, forcing himself to stay stationary, unable to predict what he would do if he allowed his body any movement. He only nodded to her apology.  
  
Trepe wasn't satisfied with his response. Maybe he'd had enough. She reached out to place a hand to his shoulder, "I think maybe we should--"  
  
Squall was right. If he allowed himself any movement, he would more than likely lose control. All good judgment flew right out of the window when her skin made contact with his. His shirt was that of fishnet, and human contact easily penetrated through. Before Quistis could complete her sentence, he pulled her figure into his arms, embracing her tightly, and pressed his needing lips to hers.   
  
Both were equally shocked, but neither fought against their potent fervor. Lips mingled together in the dance of desire, adding fuel to the raging flame of their lust, their growing passion. The heat drove them to near insanity. They couldn't get close enough.  
  
Squall turned, pushing Quistis to the wall, hands at either cheek, his body pressing into her firmly. If he wasn't driven before, he was now. All control was lost, completely lost. It was a need he yearned for he never thought he would, and wouldn't deny himself. This drug, this woman brought out an animalistic thirst that had yet to be quenched. This was only the beginning.  
  
E or no E, Crimsons' heart possibly matched Clovers' own rate, thudding in her chest, booming in her eardrums. A moment like this was dreamt of for years upon years, but she never imagined it would ever come to be. The reality of it all struck her like a ton of fabricated weight slamming against her in full force. All she could think of was cling to this moment, before it was gone.  
  
So her arms snaked around his neck, all appendages burying into his mass of moist, silken strands, and gripped for dear life. She couldn't bear it if he pulled away now.  
  
He purred. Squall Leonhart purred. It was unavoidable, the passion and excitement she was driving him to was astonishing. And as she grinded herself against his stiffened member, he whimpered helplessly against her lips. He was going insane. It certainly felt as if he were. His body encouraged her actions as he pressed even tighter against her, the tip of his anxious tongue coaxing her lips to part. They did, and the dance continued, the need twice as intense as before.  
  
The Commander couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't wait. His hands moved to her waist, gripping firmly, vigorously as his lips parted from hers, pressing to her smooth, exposed neck, delving himself to taste her skin. "I can't stop…" he whispered, his tone husky and faintly shaking. "I need you…so bad…"  
  
The need to hear more was unnecessary. She would give him anything, her life, her love, and her sex. It was her sex he asked for, despite the protest in the back of her head, echoing, begging to be listened to, she would willingly give it all. Deep inside herself, she wanted it from him, but for perhaps different reasons than his own.  
  
Considering she didn't believe for a second he loved her like she did him.  
  
"Oh Hyne Squall…" she cooed as she felt his lips travel from her neck to her sensitive collarbone. Something snapped in her mind, and reluctantly, she pushed him away. He stared at her, his eyes disappointed and fearful, "I can get us a room." The disappointment vanished just as Quistis' lips took his captive one last time before pushing from the wall and grabbing his hand. Together, the entered the club without a second look from the bouncer.  
  
They fought through the crowd; the density seemed to have increased during their time outdoors. This didn't deter Squall from continuing to place his needy, lust-filled kisses upon the back of his comrades' neck. If she wasn't so determined to let him have her in private, she would have collapsed, and let him do what he willed to her.  
  
Their trek continued through the mass, and halted when they came upon a familiar man. The generally silent females were nowhere to be seen, and Culdin was still missing as well as Zale. The only one Quistis recognized was Arbitor, who spoke with an unfamiliar man, and seemed to be rather interested in the conversation…or maybe his groin.  
  
Arbi glanced up as he sensed the duo approach, giving a faint smile to Crimson, but refused to acknowledge the SeeD who looked as though he attached himself to Quistis' neck indefinitely. The tablet was really working through him now to its full capacity.  
  
"Arbi…I need…to borrow…" her concentration faltered when the Commander took the Instructors' earlobe between his lips and teased mercilessly, "…your room key…please…"  
  
The ex-SeeD appeared to deliberate over this a moment as he watched the couple, Squalls' chin now resting on Quistis' shoulder, hands at her hips, the muscles in his face tense as she shamelessly stroked his hardened organ.  
  
With a grin, the Gothic bloke reached into his coat at his side and tossed the single key to the female. Just barely catching the item, she gave an appreciative smile to her friend.  
  
"Don't take all night…" the spiky-haired beau requested kindly, giving a wink in their direction. Though he was disappointed he couldn't successfully bed the SeeD, he was pleased to see his friend would be able to delight herself in his sexuality.  
  
Holding tightly to the key, she returned the wink, "Can't promise anything…"  
  
Without another word spoken, Crimson grabbed for Clovers' hand once more, and advanced for the familiar staircase.  
  
Squall knew this staircase, but he didn't seem to be paying any mind to his surroundings either. Quistis. That's all he thought about, that's all he craved for. Her and his climatic release. He'd never felt so strongly for sexual release in all his life. He'd never truly paid attention to it, his SeeD matters coming first, and physical pleasure was always on the back-burner. Even in his relationship with Rinoa, sex was never a concern, and it was rarely ever a thought. It was occasional, and when it occurred, it was almost planned. Things would always pan out the same way, every time. It was repetitious, and at times tedious.  
  
This was different, a whole new feeling, a whole new experience. He supposed he had the drug to blame, but to be doting over his former Instructor…that he couldn't blame on the drug. He just…he didn't know. And he really didn't want to. He just wanted to satisfy his craving, and everything would go back to normal…   
  
It was a lie and he knew it.  
  
Quistis fumbled with the key at the door, unable to steady her hands long enough to slip the metal into its lock. She was too desperate, too filled with desire to focus. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the key fit, and the lock unlatched. The door barely opened before the female turned, and found herself in her comrades' embrace yet again. She wrapped her arms fervently around him, their lips meeting, kissing, biting, teasing and tantalizing.  
  
Squalls' foot managed to slam the door shut from behind as their hands began to claw and tear. Blindly, their bodies collided upon the unmade bed. The stench was uninviting, yet only mildly distracted the Commander from his task.   
  
Purse and duster discarded, Hyne only knew where they lay now. The shoes were the next to go, both pair thudding upon the floor and forgotten about. There were no pauses, there were no breaks. And Squalls' lips never fled from Quistis' skin, said lips taking hold of a sensitive nipple as he lifted her top from her chest, up and over her head. Sinking into the sheets, the female could do no more than writhe beneath him.   
  
This moment was not quite up to par with her fantasies, but the intense emotion was there, the immeasurable love and adoration, though unrequited, was strong and existent. It would be a moment in time Quistis would cherish forever.  
  
He claimed her lips once more, his moan quiet, yet audible to the beautiful inamorata. They regretfully parted when he motioned to remove his top garment. However, Quistis took this time to do away with his buckle and belt, now simply working on his loose pants. She trembled. She trembled for many reasons. Anticipation, fear, love…they all wound together to create an arduous feeling of hunger and dread. This may never happen again. Crimson may not have been concerned, but Quistis was terrified. However, agonizing anticipation overrode any and all of her fear and good senses. Crimson was in control.  
  
The last of their clothing discarded, the predator arose from within her. She rolled Squall onto his back, straddling his naked waist. He appeared to be slightly taken off guard by her sudden movements, but didn't fight against her. He was blinded by lust.  
  
"Squall…" Crimson purred, her hands latching to his shoulders as she licked his right nipple, nipping at the sensitive flesh. He flinched beneath her, his back arching in reaction to her touch. She remembered what it felt like to be under the spell of E, and wanted to grant him with the greatest sensation possible.   
  
"I remember…when you told me about Rinoa…"  
  
Rinoa… A twinge of guilt struck a nerve, but was soon forgotten when her tongue flicked and teased his opposite nipple.  
  
"Your sex was planned, almost discussed to the point you both new exactly what was going to happen…" she grinned as she clawed her nails down his sides, and he squirmed in pleasure.  
  
She was right. He had mentioned such to her while she slumbered in her coma. He had spoken of so much; much of it had slipped his mind.   
  
"I'm going to introduce you to the unpredictable pleasure…" This was something new. The way she spoke, it sounded as if she were at expert at fornication. She wasn't, but did have a keen imagination.   
  
Her fingers gently glided over Squalls' erect member, his body responding pleasantly to the gentle caress. Raising her body ever so slightly, she guided his organ into her orifice, hissing from the penetration, but accepting him in full as she was blessed with boundless ecstasy. Squall. She had Squall. Even if it were briefly, she had him; a time with him she could call her own.  
  
The Commander moaned, low and rasping, driving his hips against her. He was with another woman, cheating on his current girlfriend. But that was a thought all its own, and didn't belong now. All he could concentrate on was this, on Quistis. Her sex was his, and he only hungered for more.  
  
He sat up, capturing her lips in a ferocious kiss, their tongues dancing once more, exploring each others every crevice as their bodies became one. The Instructors' legs drew around his waist, her arms clinging to his neck as their movements became quicker, and more desperate. Each neared their climax, both panting as they parted once more, gasping, moaning, purring… Crimson's fingers dove into his sleek, chocolate brown tresses, holding tight, tugging playfully.   
  
"Quistis…" he cooed her name against her ear, driving himself into her more forcefully, his rhythm quickening with each thrust inside her. Never, ever, had he imagined this. That this would ever happen between he and Quistis. Here in so far, he had few regrets, and none directly had to do with her. More confusion, but not dwelled upon. He had time to brood later.  
  
Her name from his lips was like the Heavens' shining upon her, and granting to her infinite bliss. Her heart fluttered and her body clenched, her climax like a powerful eruption. Her internal muscles tightened around Squalls' buried shaft, which released its own explosion of warm satisfaction.   
  
They leaned upon one another, their kisses continuing to the cheeks, forehead, neck and shoulders. They didn't stop. They couldn't. Their hips continued to thrust at a softer, gentler rate, their pants and breaths heavy and unsteady.   
  
"Quistis…I can't stop…" Clover sighed, running his fingers through her scarlet hair, downward along her back. His caresses, his touches were no longer that of primal hunger, but they were affectionate.  
  
Crimson smiled, that of cunning seduction as she devoured his lips once, twice, "Don't stop, I don't want you to."  
  
Encouraged by her request, he shifted her onto her back, looming over her with a stare of insatiable hunger. He never stopped. In and out he slid his member against her inner walls, his fingertips running up the length of her thigh. Even though he couldn't stop, he couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes either. He was suddenly guilty, the magic of the drug seemingly fading, reminding him there were repercussions of his actions. He reminded himself he used her, used Quistis for his own selfish need. But he couldn't stop. And she didn't want him to.  
  
He nuzzled his face against the crook of her neck, taking hold of her soft, warm hands and held them above her head, his movements never ending. What came next he didn't expect, and nearly cringed at the sound of those three words…  
  
"I love you."  
  
There was no response. How could he give one? He didn't love her. Not in the way she wanted. He was still with….Rinoa.  
  
The name struck a sour cord. He was with her. Not exactly content in their relationship, but with her still. The guilt was becoming unbearable, a pain striking his heart that he didn't want to feel. Drown it in pleasure.  
  
He raised his head to glance at her face. There was relief in the sight of her closed lids. He seized her mouth, kissed her kindly, gently as his climax came once more. She moaned from behind his lips as she gave way to her second orgasm, squeezing his tender hands as it approached.  
  
Leaving her mouth, he looked away before he spoke. "I think we should go now."  
  
Quistis looked at him with half closed lids, but nodded positively. It was Crimsons' turn to shout inside her head for her slip of the tongue. The words weren't returned, but it was expected.  
  
Here came the dread…  
  
- - -  
  
The ride Garden was silent. Dead silent. Squalls' coat was lost during several chains of events that occurred that night. It was more than likely picked up by a stranger. It was a nice coat. Shame it had to be lost.  
  
Quistis occasionally glanced to her Commander, hoping he may at least spare her a simple glance, if not brief. No such thing occurred, and it caused her heart to sink further. Crimson and Quistis continued to battle, but it was the pain of her unrequited love for Leonhart that caused Quistis to surface. She just didn't know what to say. For once, she didn't know what Squall was thinking.  
  
The Commanders' brows were furrowed as he kept his intense gaze upon the road. Too much thinking, deliberating, brooding, pondering was occurring within his mind. There was nothing to say. Guilt. After the lust, after the sex, after the release, all there was was confusion and guilt. He had caused irreparable damage that night, Ecstasy or no Ecstasy. He should have been stronger than that, to divulge into temptation like he had. Hyne damn, how could he have been so selfish!? Why did he want her…why did he want Quistis so bad? She loved him. That made it three times worse.  
  
She opened his eyes to new sensations. The question was, could he resist them next time around? He could resist her?  
  
Coming to a stop inside the parking lot, he turned off the engine and leaned his head against the steering wheel. He didn't move, not an inch. He just, sat there, silent.  
  
Trepe gazed at his still figure, studying him for a time. She deliberated on what to say, if anything, or if perhaps she should just leave altogether.  
  
Speaking was better. It would perhaps, clear away some of the discomfort.  
  
Unfortunately, Crimson came to surface, "Did you enjoy yourself?"  
  
The Commander bit his tongue at first. He would be careful not to snap. It wasn't her fault.  
  
'Yeah it was. If it weren't for her traumatic ass, I wouldn't have bothered to put myself in that position.'  
  
Again, he was being selfish, as well as placing the blame off on someone else. 'Marking high on the points there, Leonhart..' "I don't think it needs to be said," he said, he forehead still upon the steering wheel as he spoke softly to the female beside him, "but we can't let anyone know what happened to tonight. For many reasons."  
  
It didn't need to be said. Quistis wasn't a fool. She nodded, though she was vaguely sure he didn't notice. But there was something she had to be sure on. She knew he regretted certain events of the night, but she needed to know if he regretted that it was her, and not someone else… "I won't, but you have to answer something first."  
  
Squall heaved a heavy sigh. Of course she was going to make things difficult. He was already feeling like shit. "What is it?"  
  
"Do you regret everything that happened tonight?"  
  
He closed his eyes and pondered. He didn't take him long to come a decision, "Not everything."  
  
His response sent a wave of curiosity and confusion Quistis' way. She stared at him unblinking, "What…don't you regret?"  
  
Everyone knew Squall wasn't the best with words, with expressing himself verbally. He wasn't really one to express himself at all. However, over time, he did learn of one way of doing so.   
  
Lifting his head from the steering wheel, he turned toward the crimson-haired beauty as his side. He hands reached for her, placing them to either side of her face as he leaned forward to claim her lips.  
  
She didn't pull nor protest, meeting him halfway to close the distance. The kiss was gentle, warm and tender. It lingered several moments, neither seeming to want to pull away. Someone had to.  
  
Squall was the first to budge, his hands retreating from her visage, placing them upon the wheel once more as he looked forward, away from her gaze. "You need to go."  
  
Reluctantly, Quistis complied, touching a finger to her lips before abandoning Leonhart and the car, shutting the door with a light slam and scurrying off through the parking lot entryway.  
  
He felt guilty; guilty, because he didn't want to stop…  
  
End of Part 4  
  
A/N: That was HARD! That's why it took me so long to put out. God DAMN that was tough! Hehe. It was difficult because keeping Squall in character with what was going on around him was a struggle. I hope I did okay. Quistis was easy, because her struggle with Crimson kind of shades her judgment. Again, thank you so much for the reviews. Review more! I like reviews, it's nice, and makes me feel good. Makes me want to write more, haha. Power to the people! Thanks for reading! Next part should arrive soon enough. 


	5. She's Dangerous

A/N: All of your reviews are so inspirational; I barely have the words to express my immense gratitude. One thing does come to mind however-reviews a plenty! They give me reason to keep going, even though despite such I am certainly compelled to continue with this dark, cynical love story (yes, love story, just you wait!). Special thanks to those of you who took the time and patience to not only read my story, but type reviews! I am so lucky to have people like you willing to read what comes from my mind and heart.  
  
With that, the story shall begin again.  
  
Disclaimer: Whatever.  
  
Disastrous Behavior: Part 5  
  
The black, endless abyss; so wide, and ultimately bottomless. At least, that's how the coffee appeared to be to Rinoa Heartilly. Her world was tumbling into a downward spiral, all because of one, single, solitary man whom she loved more than anything and everything. But her love just wasn't enough, was it? Relationships went both ways, and when communication of any sort was lacking, what did you have?  
  
She remembered their late night conversations. Sure, it was still a difficult task to get Mr. Commander to say more than two words. It was something she could accomplish more than others. But now…she could barely get him to look her way. The kisses she bestowed stood unreturned; the kind words blown into the wind left suspended and not received. The answer to this problem stared her in the face, yet it was a solution she wasn't willing to accept. Hopefully, he wasn't either.  
  
Her coffee turned cold, untouched by feeble hands as she sat at the usual, Cafeteria table her and the childhood gang occupied. It was early. No, not quite. It was early when she had arrived, but the Sorceress had remained there for hours upon hours, simply contemplating-surely a habit she picked up from her troubled lover. It had to be somewhere close to the afternoon.   
  
Before the Sorceress' mind had the opportunity to wander where her buds roamed, the more cheerful one of the bunch plopped down beside the raven haired female with a tray adorned with a small pile of fried potato slices, a scoop of scrambled eggs, and a side glass of orange juice.  
  
"They didn't have any bacon again!" Selphie whined pathetically as she smiled at her friend. A glance fell in front of the Sorceress', finding no tray or trace of any food consumed. "Heeey…did you skip breakfast again?"  
  
Rinoa paused, running a finger along the rim of her coffee mug with a blank expression upon her visage. She forced a smile to the exuberant woman, "I ate some cereal." In truth, it had been the third day she'd skipped the usual oatmeal and toast repast.  
  
Tilmitt gave her a questioning expression, but didn't press the issue. Rinoa was, and would always be stubborn. Trying to get her to admit to something if she didn't want to tell it was like trying to pull a T-Rexuar out of the middle of the road by its toes; it just wouldn't happen. A smile beamed to the brunettes' features as she slowly began to eat her breakfast, "You'll help me with the SeeD Inauguration ball decorations, right? I mean, I have most of them done…" she paused to swallow.  
  
'Squall and I met at his inauguration ball…' Rinoa thought bitterly to herself. Her eyes never left the porcelain mug.  
  
"…But you know, I have a few last minute preparations and stuff that you would be perfect to help me with! And you can give your opinion on the over all…" The SeeD finally stopped altogether, fixing her gaze upon the pale beauty by her side. Her eyes were dull and downcast. It was obvious something was bothering her, and she was deliberating upon it. Unfortunately, Selphie had a fairly good idea of what the problem was. "Okay Rinoa, start talking. You're not fine, so don't try to play it off like that."  
  
Lips trembled, eyes misted-Rinoa Heartilly began to cry. Her fingers clenched the mug with a fierce grip to its handle as she attempted the useless task in trying to cease her tears from gushing forth. Selphie stared in the utmost sympathy. "Oh Seffie…" she began in a hushed whisper, her voice wavering pitifully with emotion. "It's Squall…I can't take this anymore. He neglects me, it's like he hardly acknowledges me as his girlfriend, it's like I'm just there. It's…we're just…falling apart."  
  
Star-crossed lover's relationship coming to an end? The one love that all believed could withstand anything, even their very worlds' destruction? Okay, perhaps that was stretching it just a tad, but Selphie was nearly at a loss for what to say. It would be a lie to say she didn't notice the distance between the couple being fabricated, but she also didn't realize the damage was so extensive. She placed a comforting hand to her friends' shoulder which merely shook from the continuation of the tears that rolled down her cheeks. She didn't even bother to wipe them away. "I have to be honest-for awhile, we all thought your relationship was perfect."  
  
Heartilly bit her lip and nearly responded, but Tilmitt continued, "That it could stand through anything. But it was recently we began to understand that even things that appeared to be perfect, or almost so on the outside, had its flaws and discord on the inside." She smiled sweetly as she dipped her head to the side to try and look her friend in the eye. When their eyes met, the silence discontinued. "And you know what? Perfection, our happiness doesn't last forever. We always have our problems; drama always seems to enter our lives even when we think nothing else can go wrong. So you guys are experiencing a few bumps and bruises down the road! Seems a re-evaluation is in order."  
  
Rinoa couldn't help but frown a little at the implication. "What do you mean?"  
  
A few memories flooded to the young woman's' mind as she sat back in her seat, regarding her comrade affectionately. "You remember me and Irvine about a year ago. It took us two years to figure out we wanted to actually start a relationship." She sighed briefly. "And it took us less than two months to realize we weren't ready. He wasn't over his fear of commitment, and I wasn't willing to be subjected to his open flirtation even though he was SUPPOSE to be in a relationship with me alone. We needed time to re-evaluate ourselves, what we really wanted, what we were ready for." There came a pause as she attempted to collect her thoughts. Leaning forward, her elbows upon the edge of the table as she drew in a deep, single breath, she stated almost begrudgingly, "I think maybe…you guys, need to spend time apart. Maybe Squall needs time to figure out if he still wants to have a relationship with you, and you need to figure out if you're willing to put up with his standoffishness he's never really gotten over."  
  
Maturity had imbedded so thickly into this woman's soul, yet her appearance, her hair and her likes had changed so little it was at times difficult for Rinoa to accept this was the same person she'd met three years ago. She was always childish and full of energy, spunky and carefree. Still, she was then, but her level of maturity had increased which left her to be a very well balanced individual. However, when she had caught sight of her wide, green eyes, she sensed there was something potent troubling her, too.   
  
But Selphies' words were what stuck out in her mind so acutely. There was wisdom from experience that backed the advice. Perhaps time apart was in order.   
  
Heartillys' tears wouldn't stop shedding. The harsh reality of the severity of the issue finally came to hit her painfully. They had been together so long, and a temporary separation was just as agonizing as continuing to endure the distance and coldness from his soul. She had to wonder if she did something wrong to bring this about. He seemed to be have been improving, but never truly broke through the ice around his heart. Or maybe he did, but it was only impermanent.  
  
Finally, the sullen non-SeeD ceased her tears flow, the shaking in her body and voice at rest as she forced a smile, doing so appreciatively at her friend. "I think…you're right. I hate to do it…it hurts. But I have to, huh?"  
  
Selphie nodded, returning to gorging down her partially chilled meal. "Maybe you should head to Timber for awhile. I'm sure your friends there miss you." When Rinoa gave her a fairly confusing look, she continued, "Well, we'll miss you, all your friends here. But time away from Squall means time away from here, and what reminds you of him."  
  
"Almost everything reminds me of him."  
  
Selphie sighed after taking a sip of her lukewarm juice. "I guess some things you just can't avoid. Hey. Cheer up a bit, huh? It won't be so bad." She smiled. "I'm sure Zone and Watts miss the heck out of you! I bet it would be nice to see them! They'll throw you a huge welcome back party and stuff!"  
  
This, in all honesty, wasn't her home. She made Timber her home, Garden only being her second home because of the friends that were like family that were stationed here. If it weren't for them, she'd have nothing to do with Garden. And she sure did miss those two… Yes, it was time for a break. "Yeah…I think I will go. Tomorrow."  
  
Tilmitt cringed slightly, but quickly regained her composure and nodded her approval. It felt like she had lost a best friend that was like a sister from her long lost childhood, and was losing another. Selphie had the ability to put on the cheerful 'nothing gets me down' act at will, but the torment she felt inside no one knew a thing about. And to keep others happy, no one would.  
  
So she forced herself to beam blithely as she threw her arms around her friend in a comforting gesture, which was returned upon contact. "Everything will turn out great, Rinny! I know it will." She pulled back to give her moist cheek a teasing pat. "Need me to help you pack some things?"  
  
Both registered as Xu's familiar voice that came upon the PA system and filled the air:   
  
-Will Quistis Trepe please report to the Headmasters' office immediately…-  
  
The women exchanged an identical, wondering look, but spoke nothing of the announcement. One problem at a time…  
  
Rinoa shook her head, still smiling even though now she felt a little embarrassed. She reached over to Selphies' tray and plucked a potato slice from the plastic plate and popped it into my mouth. A small twinge of hunger was finally making itself known. "Sure, if you have the time. And I'll give you my opinion on your Ball décor before I leave."  
  
Though things weren't back to normal, the fact that Rinoa was beginning to feel the least bit better put Selphie at ease. She settled back into her seat and clapped her hands in a childish manner. "Booyaka! That's the spirit!" Someone caught her attention at that point; a short, somewhat bulky character stomped through the entrance of the Cafeteria and stalked toward the table the two friends occupied. "Uh-oh…Zell doesn't look too happy."  
  
The Sorceress allowed her eye to drift to the red-faced SeeD who sat down hard upon one of the chairs facing opposite of the two women, sulking with his arms folded. His expression fierce, heated, furious…  
  
Silence passed between all three of them as the females studied the male occupant who said not a word, breathed heavily, and stared at his lap as if piercing flaming daggers into his knees.  
  
"God DAMN I've never wanted to punch a woman so badly in my life since Ultimecia!"  
  
Pairs of brown and green eyes flew wide with Dinchts' statement as he slammed his fist upon the table, causing the console to rumble and tremble with the vibration of force.  
  
"Who, Zell?" Rinoa inquired calmly, quietly, sweetly lest she aggravate the male all the more.   
  
"Quistis, that's who! Stupid bitch, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind as soon as she leaves the Headmasters' office!" The second slam caught a few wandering eyes in which he locked to like a missiles' target, and exploded. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT!?"  
  
Selphie swallowed hard. It'd been a long while since they'd seen Zell so enraged, so filled to the brim with acrimony. What Quistis said to her just the other day made her cry. Of course, she told no one of the words exchanged, but if the words said to Zell were anything like those uttered to her, it would be the reason such a reaction would flare from him, "Just calm down, Zell. There's no point in beating stuff up--"  
  
He shot out of his seat like a rocket a pointed a trembling finger in her face that left her pale. "Don't tell me what to do! I hated it when Seifer called me a Chicken-Wuss, I hate when anyone else calls me that, but I hate it three times more when my FORMER best friend picks on me publicly because she thinks she walks on fucking water, and uses CHICKEN-WUSS as one of her MANY insults toward me! I was just trying to be nice, just TRYING to be a fucking friend. But nooo, that's not enough for her! I don't have to take that shit from anyone, especially that bitch who can't handle the fact she nearly got blown to pieces in Deling and almost died! I'm tired of treating her like a special fucking case--"  
  
"That is enough Zell!" Rinoa bellowed in a commanding tone, but frightfully so. Her friend was terrifying her, and didn't know what he was going to do next.  
  
The SeeD hushed himself at once and gave a pathetic whimper as he noticed all attention within the Cafeteria was focused on him. "Sorry…." He whispered in humiliation, and turned on his heel to leave. Though he had aged in years, his temper had yet to be controlled indefinitely.  
  
Selphie bit down on her lip, "Zell wait!" She rushed to her feet, patting Rinoa's shoulder before sprinting off toward the blonde.  
  
Heartilly sunk even lower in her chair, looking to Tilmitts' tray she left behind. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for her to leave just yet. Then again, what good would she be in her state of mind? How could she help with anything when inside, she was such a wreck?  
  
* * *  
  
Squall sat across from his Headmaster within his office. The light blue cushions just barely relaxed his stiff and tense figure. The night before weighed heavily upon his heart, and every other muscle he had to carry. It weighed even heavier upon his mind. This conversation with Cid was proving difficult, considering his concentration wavered to a certain red-head…  
  
"In conclusion, Headmaster, I believe after the SeeD exam is complete, we can set a course away from Deling, considering…"  
  
"Considering General Caraway really wants little to do with us." The Headmaster smiled dully a moment. Despite the fact that it was the General himself who had hired the SeeD's, he was in a desperate situation at the time, and really had no other choice. He was basically forced to call upon the mercenaries while the Galbadian Garden finished with their own SeeD exam. "Very well. After the SeeD exam, we will set a course for Balamb." A thoughtful expression came over his face a moment. "Excuse me."  
  
Squall nodded, attempting to settle back into the cushion of the wooden chair. Comfort didn't seem to be an option. He merely leaned forward, his elbows to his knees and sighed. Perhaps a round in the Training Center would relieve at least a fragment of stress he had to bear.  
  
The Headmasters' chubby finger pressed down on a grey button attached to a fairly small intercom as he spoke clearly toward it, "Xu, please make the announcement over the PA to have Quistis Trepe come to my office please."  
  
-Yes Sir. - The woman on the opposite end responded.  
  
A curious look overcame the Commanders' features. "Why do you need to speak with her?" He asked in his usual monotone. However, there was a hint of emotion lingering within the words. He wasn't even sure why he inquired. Since when did he care?  
  
Cid looked at the male carefully, placing his fingers together beneath his chin while regarding him slightly, "The matters I have to discuss with her are private." He gave a reassuring smile. "Nothing too serious. But, I do wonder about your sudden eagerness to know what our conversation will entail."  
  
Leonhart frowned at that, but didn't speak. He merely shrugged his shoulders as he stood. Nothing serious. "Then I may be dismissed?" His tone was slightly firm with a hint of bitterness. It wasn't on purpose, that was for certain. He couldn't choke back the words before they fell.  
  
The Headmaster either didn't seem to notice, or simply didn't care. He nodded to the Commander. "Yes, you may go. There are a few contracts I would like you to look over and approve, however. They don't require immediate attention, but the sooner the better. I've already had Xu place them on your desk." Kramer already had ten billion things to handle, why not share the load?  
  
A frown burdened the Commanders' features, but he nodded in reply. With a final salute, he turned on his heel and left the office, entering the elevator. Oh, those contracts were definitely going to wait. There was no way he would be able to concentrate on anything of that nature at this given point in time. It was surely a shame. The second in command of Balamb Garden couldn't keep his mind clear of a woman he fucked the night before. It made him sick to his stomach.  
  
Leonhart hadn't even realized he'd slouched on the back wall of the elevator. Many things seemed to be slipping his mind. Like the fact he had a girlfriend, like the fact Quistis was a SeeD and Instructor of Garden and it was against regulations to have any intimate contact with her…  
  
And apparently, he wasn't paying too much attention to his surroundings, either. Once the elevator doors slipped open, he didn't move. Not until a certain figure shifted in front of him. It was the shadow at his feet, and the familiar scent of vanilla that pulled him from his brooding. Dammit.  
  
Crimson sauntered into the elevator with a more than confident, seductive grin upon her features. She had something in mind, and it was something that could easily get them both fired. Squall didn't move, he only stared. Why did she suddenly possess the ability to leave him still in awe or frantic with inconceivable wanting?  
  
"Going up?" The innuendo was apparent, yet Squall refused to comment on it. No, this was his stop-he just couldn't bring himself to leave.  
  
The doors shut, and hell broke loose. Quistis was upon him like a leech; her lips latching to his own while her fingers dove through the dark tresses of his hair. Resistance was utterly futile. There was only response. And a response was what the Instructor received.   
  
It was wrong, it was sin, but it was unavoidable. Squall grabbed her hips, his fingertips kneading hungrily into the flesh for which he earned a pleasurable moan for his efforts. Their lips parted, tongues dancing to a rhythmic beat only lovers heard in the moment of ecstasy. But this ecstasy could only last a moment. Or perhaps it was the logical side of Squall Leonhart that finally took command.  
  
Their bodies shifted, Leonhart pressing the persistent Trepe against the wall, his hands reaching to grip her wrists and pulled them from his head, and holding them to her sides. She whimpered in total protest, and groaned miserably when he pulled his mouth from hers. Her eyes were left wide and gleaming, her lips moist and glistening, just begging to be touched once more.   
  
This couldn't happen.  
  
"That was inexcusable…" Squall told her firmly, even if his hormones, his heart, and everything else wanted it to never end, it was wisest to listen to his head-like he almost always did.   
  
"But you wanted it…" her hand boldly reached for his groin, and was allowed a minor brush against his bulge before he squirmed and pressed her hand to her side once more, "and more.."  
  
"Not here." Squall mumbled, releasing her completely. Suddenly feeling paranoid, he looked through the glass of the elevator doors. Hopefully, and that was a large hopefully, no one viewed upon their little exchange. "Never again," he told her with authority, and pressed the button to open the doors. He stepped out and stormed down the steps without looking back. She had gotten under his skin, in so many ways, and he just didn't quite know how to handle it.  
  
Quistis watched him depart the elevator as the doors closed again. The realization of her actions hit her full force. She was becoming reckless, dangerous, and worst of all, she was betraying a friend.  
  
No. Not a friend. Not anymore. But her reckless behavior had to be squelched. With her disastrous behavior, she was putting both herself and Squall at risk.  
  
But there was that side of her that just didn't give a damn. And it seemed to be prevailing over her self-righteous logic. Crimson did as she liked.  
  
With a heavy, heavy sigh, she pressed the button for her desired floor as she attempted not to think of what had just happened, of what she had done to her Commander. It was awful enough he had to live with the night before, but to press even further antics upon him… Quistis felt sick; Crimson felt triumphant.  
  
The doors parted, and a vaguely flustered Quistis stepped from the contraption. Almost in a daze, she found herself standing before the Headmaster, his mahogany desk separating the two as they saluted one another.   
  
"Headmaster, you needed to see me?"  
  
Cid nodded his reply, gesturing for her to sit most kindly, a smile upon his face as he took to his own desk chair. "I did. And I shall get right to the point." A sudden concerned, yet comforting expression took charge of his features, which mildly alarmed the Instructor. "You have not been on the field since your accident occurred."  
  
She felt herself twitch, but only hoped it was just barely visible to the public eye. She hated to be reminded of the weakness that befell upon her that day. "Yes, sir."  
  
"The field exam for our Training SeeD's is approaching. Based on Dr. Kadowaki's report from this mornings' physical, I'd say you haven't quite fully recovered." He spoke as gently as he could, but regardless of his sincere affection, Cid found himself being subject to a fierce, piercing glare. Never receiving such a look from this SeeD in the past, it left him unnerved and quite uneasy, "So I believe that a substitute Squad leader for your Squad is in order."  
  
Her mind was in disarray. Crimson wished to berate her superior, for his stupidity for even considering such an action, while Quistis felt the need to approach this matter with calm dignity. "Sir…I am offended you feel I am not capable of commanding my own students."  
  
"It's just--"  
  
"Stop," Crimson commanded most rudely. Her eyes closed, a calm wave engulfing her emotions, "I assure you, I am up to my fullest capability. I do not wish to overexert myself; therefore if I truly thought I was not suited for the task, I would let you know. I think you know me well enough to know at least that much." That was certainly a lie, and it had quite the condescending tone to it, but she just didn't care. "I believe Dr. Kadowaki's reports are folly, as I am feeling up to my fullest potential to lead my students into battle and out safest to my ability, and it wounds me that you would stop to believe I am anything but capable out of the years you have known me."  
  
Cid stared, his expression blank. How could he possibly argue with this woman? This intelligent, strong-willed individual? He believed her, and that was all there was to it. He couldn't allow himself to believe one of his angels could be so dysfunctional… "Quistis, I trust you more than most, my dear. I am concerned for your health still…"  
  
"Sir…"  
  
He held up a hand to silence her. Crimson bit her lip, and viciously. "Now you stop." Returning his fingers to beneath his chin, he regarded her with a pleasant expression, "However, if you feel you are utmost capable of leading your Squad…then I retract my suggestion. Forget this meeting." The Headmaster smiled cordially, "You are dismissed."  
  
Satisfied with the close of their short assembly, Quistis gave a nod and rose to her feet. With a salute, she left the office behind with an impending grin.  
  
Kramer sighed, removing his spectacles from his face to rub the tender bridge between his eyes. Coming to the decision to place her on medical leave and issue a substitute to guide her Squad was a mental strain, and countermanding to it within minutes left him feeling exhausted. His eyes, unaided by his vaguely spotted glasses, fluttered over to the medical report by his left hand. His lifted the several pages of parchment into his grip, focusing upon the print highlighted in green neon marker, skimming through it once more:  
  
'Although I do attest to the fact she is physically stable, her mental status is indeed questionable. Quistis Trepe appears to be dealing with tremendous stress and guilt, as well as overwhelming pain and fear based upon the past and present. There also seems to be a rift within her mind, as if a battle ensues. The possibility of subject possessing two, to three different personalities is a possibility, and I strongly advise subject to be placed on medical leave until I can further study this issue and understand the reason for this brainwave activity.'  
  
Setting the file back into its manila folder and closing it with a light pat, the Headmaster leaned back into his office chair and let his heavy lids fall. He hoped and prayed Dr. Kadowaki was for once in her life, very wrong in her speculations, and that Quistis knew what she was doing…  
  
* * *  
  
Authors' Note: Been a long time! I know, and I'm sorry. Still am as it seems writing the next part may take longer than expected. Going through some traumatic ordeals. Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews, and know I haven't forgotten about you all. I hope this can satisfy you for a little while. 


	6. Don't be Afraid

A/N: Aren't I a bad one? Making you wait so long...shame, shame on me! My life is one big hellhole, so finding time to write this as I dance in flames is a little difficult. No matter, here is the sixth installment!

**Disastrous Behavior: Part 6**

He was in a terrible state of mind. There wasn't a thing he could concentrate on other than her. That woman. Now his personal feelings, his issues were avidly interfering with what was most important. Apparently, no matter how hard he tried, it didn't seem to be the most important thing on his mind anymore.

Retreating to the silence his office could bring, he dove into a Commanders' world of files, contracts, and other documentation that required his attention. There was a faint chill in the air, but Squall was sweating. His mind wouldn't stop reeling, wouldn't stop thinking. Stop thinking of her. How was it possible one woman, one pill could turn his world upside down from the atmosphere he had previously become so utterly accustomed to?

These contracts...they needed to be read through and required a signature. They should be his priority. SeeD should be his priority.

But as his eyes skimmed through the text, and his brain attempted to process them, only one person flowed through his mind. Damn her.

Lifting his ink pen and tapping his foot impatiently against the plastic mat beneath his gray office chair, he began to write upon the dotted line.

'_Did you regret what happened?'_

'_Not Everything.'_

A sigh escaped his pale pink lips as he flipped to the next contract devoid of his penned markings.

'_That was inexcusable...'_

'_But you wanted it...and more.'_

'_Not here.'_

Squall frowned ever so deeply at the not so distant memory of his close...too close encounter. It was only a few hours it had even occurred when he was nearly molested in the Garden elevator. She accomplished the feat in causing his cold blood to boil, his mouth to water in hunger, and his lust to reach new heights he never new existed; the danger excited him, even if briefly, possibly enough to engage in further risqué behavior...with her. This just couldn't happen.

The pen tightened in his grip as he forced all thoughts to be banished from his head, his skin turning a ghostly white from the pressure. Concentration was required...and that's when he noticed something terribly wrong with the documents...

His eyes flew wide as he flipped through each page to find one name written on every line, corner, and crevice:

Quistis Trepe.

Everywhere; on every single page that name existed. She was poison from the inside out, like an infectious cancer that spread to each and every one of his cells. The cure was unknown, or dear Hyne, what if there was no cure?

Almost in a panic, the dropped the pen and rummaged through his many drawers for white-out, tape, anything to cover the mess he'd made with a woman's name. No trace of this name could be found. He was utterly desperate, his fingers shaking as he searched in vain. There was nothing. The damage was done and there was no repairing.

Too frustrated to bother with hiding each monstrosity, he shoved each marked parchment into one of the overstuffed drawers and threw his head upon the cluttered desk top.

How could he have been so foolish; foolish enough to allow his sexual desires to get the best of him? Magnified as it was by the illegal substance, he should have been strong enough to resist its tempting potency.

Sure Leonhart, blame it on the drug and not on your confused heart. Because that was the problem; he just might be falling. Falling so hard, so fast, nothing could break the fall. For a woman, he'd never believed in all his years, he might actually fall in love with. Once upon a time ago they were the same, but different. Now, the differences had increased, but the attraction of opposites drew the magnetic forces together with powerful intensity.

No Leonhart. Not love—lust. That was all...that had to be.

Knocking. Who in the hell? His head lifted from the wooden desk, his eyes firmly placed on the clean contract before him even though his concentration was far from it.

"Come in," he called out sternly, scooping up his earlier discarded writing utensil and gently tapping it against the edge of the table in an irritable fashion.

Rinoa timidly peeked through the slightly ajar door before slipping through completely. She attempted a cheerful expression, which faded instantly as soon as she noted the Commanders' current disposition. He didn't even glance her way as she entered.

"Hey Squall..." She greeted as she gently pushed the door closed. The moment it shut, the air grew disturbingly thick and tense.

Everyone knew it was an awful idea to interrupt Leonhart once he was locked in his office. Easily placed into a foul mood, it was best to let him have his peace. Even Rinoa never bothered him unless what she had to say was urgent—this night, it was. At least to her.

Squall barely gave her any recognition as she spoke, his face completely blank as he continued to stare intently at the parchment in front of him. However, internally he dreaded anything further to come from her mouth.

"Evening..." he replied quietly, a frown finally coming to his features.

Heartilly could hardly contain the immense displeasure and distress she felt from his sudden change, "I wanted to let you know," she held her hands behind her back as she approached his desk, "I'll be leaving for Timber. I figured it's time for me to check on things there. You know, maybe volunteer to help with some reconstruction here and there."

Her lover nodded. At first, she suspected he hadn't listened to a word she'd spoken until he himself made an inquiry, although the concern in his voice was lacking drastically, "When are you leaving?"

The Sorceress frowned sadly. It was like he didn't care. "...Tomorrow morning. I used my spare key to your room to get a few things out of there that I needed." Her tone was the definition of deadpan.

Squall cringed a little by the tone, but it subsided just as quickly as it had arrived. Maybe her absence would provide him with some relief. Perhaps then, he could convince himself to miss her. He nodded in reply, a new set of thoughts encompassing his mind...that trailed right back to Quistis...

This was painful. Did he care at all? If he didn't want her, why couldn't he just say it? She was resolved in receiving some kind of reaction from the loner; something other than total apathy.

"Squall..." her voice was almost pleading, but with her next set of words while placing her palms upon the desktop, leaning forward as she burned holes into his forehead, her tone was disturbingly demanding. "Make love to me."

If Squall could have possibly thought of a reply, he wasn't sure if his lips would have been capable of moving at that particular moment. His grip was ever so tight upon his ebony pen, his eyes narrowed. The boy was petrified. Petrified, because this was supposed to be his girlfriend, but it wasn't her he had been fantasizing about ever since she set foot in his office. It wasn't her that suddenly flashed into his mind, laid across his desk as she gave into the throes of passion and accepted each thrust he bestowed, "W-what?" His eyes never fled from the document.

"Right here and now," It was spoken with such calm authority that no one else would have thought to object.

"I can't....I-I have...not here." Dear Hyne, it sounded like he was panicking.

The Sorceress' eyes turned dangerously dark. She couldn't take the neglect, the denial, the pain from this man any longer. He didn't even have the decency to look her in the eyes. She threw herself from the desk, pointing a trembling finger at the Commander, a mixture of anger and agony engulfing her features.

"This is why I'm leaving!" She bellowed with such fury, it even surprised Squall. He forced himself to look at her, but he just couldn't look at her eyes. "You act like you don't care about me, like I don't even matter anymore! I know you're stressed, and you hurt, but so do I! I'm giving you three days, Leonhart...three days to re-evaluate us. What we could be..." Tears began to glisten around her irises, and she was unashamed to show them, "You decide whether you love me enough to try again." With a heart crushed to dust, she departed the silent office, the slam in her wake echoing through it's entirety as the paralyzed Squall moved not a muscle.

He hurt her. He cared, but perhaps not like he should, not enough to count. Not like she wanted or what he was willing to give her anymore.

That wasn't acceptable. Squall had to care for her more, like the public wanted to see. SeeD were mercenaries, but he had to set an example. He had to keep things controlled and stable. This wasn't the way to go about it. Three days she said. In three days when she returned, he'd apologize, paint on a new face and continue the way they were before _her_...

"Dammit!" With the slam of a balled fist to the desk before him, he slammed his head upon it as well, throwing his arms over to block the probing light from his eyes. When had everything suddenly fallen apart? Was it the nightclub? No. Quistis didn't even have anything to do with it at first. It happened before that, and he knew it. Quistis and E was his scapegoat from the dilemma he was facing. It was up to the Commander to make it right, to find the best course of action and stick to the path ahead. That was why he was the Commander.

He just couldn't seem to command his own life.

What a mess.

It made him feel...

Groggy? Quickly lifting his head from the mild warmth of the table, he glanced as the digital numbers that seemed to jump out and bite him upon his first look.

10:12 pm.

So he'd fallen asleep. It hadn't even been a restful doze. However, he knew it was time to depart, for absolutely nothing was getting accomplished in this room; not even his careful brooding was making much sense to his perplexing mind.

Standing from his swivel chair, he snatched his keys from the desktop with one hand, and his jacket with the other. Leaving the office in haste, he suddenly staggered, the grip of sleep reminding him of his exhaustion. It wouldn't be long now before he was enveloped in his clean bed sheets, falling away from reality and into the world of dreams where his struggles would continue. Not even in slumber could he escape his manifesting troubles.

Reaching the doorknob, he slipped the metallic key into the slot with minor difficulty as everything became a slight blur. Mental and emotional exhaustion seemed to have the ability to drain you twice as fast as physical. Despite this bump in the road, he turned the key and pushed in--unsuccessful.

Internally swearing, he unlocked the door once again, marking his mental calendar for Rinoa's return so he could properly scold her about leaving his quarters unlocked. It wasn't like it wasn't the first time, so in fact, he scratched out that date realizing it would be a complete waste of time and energy. He just wanted to sleep, and be devoid of all thought for a night.

Stepping across the threshold, he immediately noticed the lights had not been switched off once the dark Sorceress departed his living space. That wasn't a first either.

Shutting the door gently behind him, he noticed movement in his peripheral that hovered indiscreetly by his made, but wrinkled queen bed. This _was_ a first.

Snapping his head to the side to catch full sight of the stranger lurking his premises, his senses alert and on guard, he was surprised with only a bare touch of relief to find the figure familiar.

"I was wondering when you'd get here."

Leonhart's insides turned over and over again, burned and bubbled until the point where it was a struggle to remain on his feet. "Quistis...What in the hell are you doing in here?" There wasn't much authority to the tone, mainly curiosity as well as notable annoyance. However, this time, he was able to conceal something else that yearned to linger within his tone.

A sweet, seductive smile came to shine on her pretty lips that Squall found hard to resist. She was temptation itself. "Well, Rinoa as usual, left your door unlocked. I thought I would wait for you in here."

The Instructor was a good distance away for the time being, yet he knew the distance would be closed not before too long. He still had much to think about, much deliberation, and needed sleep desperately. Or so he thought, for once he spotted Quistis in her lime tube top and raven pleather pants that hug every itch of her legs like a second skin to her curvaceous figure, he was lost in the sea of lustful desire all over again. "You should go."

Crimson wasn't quite so easily deterred. And just as the Commander feared, she drew nearer toward him; her hips followed by his wandering eye that he'd meant to keep firmly placed at his boots. "I just want you to come out with me. Just a little while, huh?"

Just as she approached, he summoned enough willpower to dodge her effort to touch his arm and head toward a vacant chair across from his empty bed. He'd love to be in it right now, "No. I'm tired..." He couldn't bring himself to say anything further, his throat tightening as he forced himself to toss his jacket upon the cushion of the seat which missed its target entirely.

His words obviously weren't getting the hint across. Coming up behind him, she placed her hands to his slumped shoulders, and squeezed. "Baby, you're so tense. I suppose going out isn't the best solution. We can stay in here..."

Despite the well desired feeling her kneading fingers brought to his tight shoulder muscles, he couldn't allow himself to fall into her trap. This was wrong, and they both knew and were aware of every consequence neither could no longer risk. It was time to come out with the big guns. Easily shrugging her off, he turned to face her with a scowl, "So partying and pleasure are the only things important to you now? Since when did you become such a child?"

Clearly Crimson was shocked as well as angry by the inquiries intended to be attacks. Quistis felt shame, while Crimson only felt the need to retaliate, "Must you always hold back your carnal desires? It's not like I can't see it in your eyes, no matter how much you try to avoid me. There's a beast inside you, caged and cornered." Her fingertips found there way up his shirt, able to brush against his navel before he took a half step back away from her caress. "I can help you free it..."

The scowl never abandoned Leonharts' features. He was set on his objective, even though it felt as though cement had seeped from the crevices of the floor below and locked his feet in place. "I suppose that's what happened with you. I just think you went crazy."

This was the first time Crimson experienced true anger, and it was a fierce flame that was sparked, and rapidly spreading. It wasn't easily extinguished, "You're just afraid to release an unfamiliar side of yourself."

That stung. No matter how deep her words cut, or how true they may seem, he wouldn't give into her tactics. He'd be stronger than her—his future depended on it. He allowed his anger to surface instead; as long as he didn't look at her, he was fine... "And you're just a delusional girl whose maturity is rapidly digressing. I suppose we all have our problems." With that, he was able to turn away from her with his arms folded firmly as his chest. A defensive stance for what was to come.

"Digressing?!" This fury was nearly irrepressible as her body tensed, forcing herself to step back. "Do you know what it's like being me?!" This time, Crimson wasn't doing all of the talking... "Being an Instructor, being surrounded by supposed friends yet still feeling bitterly alone? Lacking the confidence, the self esteem needed to walk down a hallway without feeling self-conscious, never feeling a moment of contentment?" There was a sudden sadness woven in her tone that reached out and jerked at Squall's heart, causing him to flinch involuntarily, "And to suffer through months of life but unable to do or say anything, only listen?" She paused, awaiting some sort of reaction out of the confession she was spewing that evidently hadn't been planned. "I heard everything in that room, Squall, everything."

He couldn't help be feel some splinter of empathetic pain as she spoke, the words processing through his mind. "Then you know how much we cared."

The fury took over once more. "That's a bullshit lie and you know it!"

Finally, Leonhart turned to gaze at her with partially open blue-grey irises, arms still folded defensively as a guarded expression took hold of his visage. He wouldn't admit it, but this conversation was hurting him, and he didn't know how to address it any other way than ignore it. The initial intent of the discussion was to push her away, but he quickly realized he simply wasn't able to. "Then you're in denial."

"That's something we have in common, Commander," Crimson spat, her eyes narrowed dangerously, knowingly as he stared back at her with curiosity and as well quiet contemplation, "You deny your feelings for me, and after last night you can't lie to me and tell me they don't exist. After this afternoon, you can't deny it either. I know, and so do you or things would have never progressed, nothing would have ever happened! After those conversations you had with me in the hospital, unveiling every detail about your life, your relationships, and how much you needed _me_." He motioned to turn from her, yet she continued, her voice well above a normal conversing tone, "You don't admit it because you're afraid of it! Of change, Squall Leonhart is what you fear most. You stay with Rinoa because you and everyone else believed the two of you were meant for each other, that your bond was indestructible!" Again she paused, and his back was completely toward her, his head down. She wondered if he was listening anymore. "Did you ever think she was simply a lesson you needed to lean about love so you could move on...?"

A response, of any kind would have been sufficient. A slap, a cry, a roar of anger would have been enough. Anything! Yet he stood there, unmoving. Utterly still, like a stone statue incapable of such movement, of courtesy, of feeling, because there was no life in it. She feared that's what he'd be rendered to all over again. Crimson didn't care, but Quistis was mortified by the possibility. Yet Quistis Trepe was continuing to lose ground as Crimson's strength and domineering personality began to gain the upper hand in her internal struggle. "Fine. Don't accept the truth and live in misery."

He heard the brush of her garments as she turned to retreat. Something snapped within him through her words, something that deeply touched and affected him like he never thought she was capable of doing.

Squall was scared.

"Don't leave." The words astonished him as he spoke them, thick with emotion and intensity.

Crimson did as told, resuming her stiff composure as she stared at Squall with a heated glare—that instantly melted as eye contact was established.

"You're right," the Commander confessed quietly, forcing his monotonous pitch into play, and was barely successful with the results, "You're right about something—I am afraid. I'm afraid to look or touch you, in case I may lose my mind." He stopped, his throat constricting as part of him wished to make the confession, while the other screamed to keep his mouth shut. He felt as if he were going against his character; this woman was changing him into something he didn't recognize or understand. He wasn't completely sure if he was grateful or regretful. "I can't go back...but I can't leave...I can't abandon what I have become."

What she saw in his words was hope; total and unshielded hope. There was hope in the obliteration of one life, and the dawn of a new. There was no doubt within her foolish mind that she could make it happen.

Closing the distance between them, her body pressed against his like blood to wounds, she placed her hands to his waist. Visibly, he stiffened, but to his own utter dismay, he couldn't bring himself to turn away this time—he was caught in her web.

"Then I'll help you embrace it."

It was a downward spiral past this promise. What began as an intense lip-lock, turned into another night of unworldly passion that both players were floored to experience, yet also feared the repercussions of the following day. To bite their tongues and pretend their second secret life did not exist would be the biggest struggle either would have to face. Squall, because of his guilt, because of the fear of changing what he knew to be proper routine; and for Quistis, for losing control of herself and embracing another side that was all too dominating to be kept upon a close leash.

Their hushed cries of lustful release sounded well into the night, until a pair of glowing bodies entangled beneath the sheets were still, catching their tired breath as each contemplated to themselves without verbally conversing with their partner.

As much as Squall wished to remain true to his current lover, the one beside him offered a new side of a spectrum he'd never thought would give such pleasure. An ex-Instructor whom he'd barely liked, let alone fantasized about, gave him such passionate thrills that he could hardly comprehend. It was as if his chest expanded, inflated with a new feeling while his body tingled with the sensation of unruly desire. There was a beast—but releasing it could very well be detrimental to himself as well as all who cared.

Crimson was a vixen, one who appeared to lack emotion, lack care for anything expect the need for pleasure and others pain; a selfish creature. She was a force that Quistis battled with, even while inducing the throes of passion with a certain Commander. While the entity seemed to offer temporary contentment, she also created an emptiness that stretched three times what any tranquility she could have ever possibly acquired.

There was a soft purr of breath rumbling in the redheads' ear, rousing her from her current daydream of a white knight and black stallion. Her slumbering white knight lay beside her, and the stallion would arrive only when he chose a change, and chose to fully welcome it. Quistis stared into the face of her white knight, and with a sad smile to her lips she placed a final kiss to a barely twitching brow before slipping from the warmth and stepping into the chill of the air.

How often could these nights occur? How often could she convince him to have her? They were questions she couldn't answer, but questions Crimson was actively plotting the counters to. She would have him—whenever she wanted.

A deep, cold tremble ran through her at these thoughts, shaking her head at these possibilities. They were wrong, every single one of them. But it was the other part that made them seem so deliciously right. There was no strength left to argue. All that was left was to embrace it, embrace the change that was rapidly taking place.

With the wrinkled clothes on her back, she discreetly slipped through the dorm room door and snuck silently down the hallway toward the Parking Garage.

There was still a night ahead for even more pleasantries.

TBC

A/N: Okay, I cheated and dodged a sex scene. But I don't want to spoil you all too much. I still have some juicy stuff ahead. Woot. Besides, I'm kinda sorta trying to stay within the rating system. As you see, I'm continuing, but slowly. So I hope these satisfies, even if it is a miniscule.


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